


I'll Be Happier

by orphan_account



Series: Where You're Planted [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Black Family, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Eventual Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, F/M, First War with Voldemort, Healing, Horcrux Hunting, Moral Ambiguity, Past Child Abuse, Past Sexual Assault, Pureblood Culture, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-03-03 09:52:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 14
Words: 31,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13338738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Lucius Malfoy is hapless, French, and sometimes a criminal. Narcissa Black is ambitious, independent, and not yet out of Hogwarts. Together, they might just be happy.Or, Narcissa Malfoy grows a backbone years before that fateful day in the Forbidden Forest, and history changes.





	1. Meet Cute

**Author's Note:**

> Creative license was taken while writing this fic with the Black Family, the government and society of the Wizarding World, and occasionally the laws of physics. It was written purely for my own entertainment, and posted because I like attention. This chapter discusses sexual assault. No details or description is given. If you've been affected by sexual assault, whether it happened to you or someone you know, the National Sexual Assault Telephone Hotline number is 800.656.4673 (I believe this only applies to those of you in the US) and the RAINN website also provides a lot of information and resources.
> 
> Title from _Happier_ by A Fine Frenzy, who plays Queenie in _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ on top of being an incredibly talented singer.

There's a blonde girl sprawled on the couch, smoking a Muggle cigarette and playing with Evan Rosier’s hair. She's using the arm of the couch as a pillow and she looks at him upside-down as he walks in. “You didn't say you had handsome friends, Evan,” she scolds.

Evan makes a face at Lucius. “He’s French, Narcissa. Your aunt would die.”

The girl, Narcissa, waves the hand holding the cigarette dismissively. “Please. That spiteful old hag will outlive us all.”

Evan doesn't dispute that. “Am I interrupting?” Lucius asks.

Narcissa sits up, shoving Evan off her lap while trying to pat the wild mass of curls on her head into something calmer. “Not at all. I'm Narcissa Black.”

“Any relation to Bellatrix?” he wants to know, hoping not.

“I’m her younger, prettier sister,” Narcissa positively beams. “And you are?”

“Lucius Malfoy,” he says.”It’s a pleasure.”

It is not a pleasure. Evan is glaring at him, likely angry that Narcissa has shifted her attention away from him, however temporarily. The Rosiers are selling several items he’s interested in, so Lucius needs Evan in a good mood. To make matters worse, now that he’s looking for it he can see the resemblance between her and Bellatrix. Hopefully any similarities stopped there.

“Yes, it is, isn't it?” she looks at him archly.

Evan sits up too. “You’re incorrigible,” he decides.

She kisses his neck and throws her arms around his shoulders, legs over his. “I would keep my wandering thoughts to myself if you married me,” she assures him.

He rests a hand on her throat. “Would you?”

She bites her lip to keep from grinning. “It might take some persuading.”

He lets her go. “My mother will never allow it.”

“We’re cousins,” Narcissa tells Lucius in a conspiratorial whisper, as if she’s not actually in Evan’s lap and he can’t overhear everything she’s saying.

“So are your aunt and uncle,” Evan informs her.

Narcissa doesn't argue. She does, however, pout. “Is that why she doesn't like me?”

“I should go,” Lucius says, as Narcissa straddles Evan.

They ignore him. “Or,” Narcissa says, “Does she have a problem with the fact that I'm the youngest daughter of a second son?”

She blows smoke in Evan’s face and bounces off his lap and up to inspect Lucius. “Come on, Ciss. You know it’s not like that,” Evan protests.

The expression Narcissa gives Lucius suggests otherwise. “So,” she says. “You’re French.”

“No one’s perfect?” he says, feeling extraordinarily out of his depth and unsure if he’s being insulted. 

He’s probably being insulted. England is terrible and so are its inhabitants.

She considers this, sliding her hands down his chest. “I don't know,” she hooks her hands into the waistband of his trousers. “I think you're exactly what I want.”

“Narcissa,” Evan snaps, evidently running out of patience with her antics.

“You're fucking Antonia Burke,” she interrupts.

“I’m going to go,” Lucius decides.

“We both know we're never going to happen and she's from a good family. Marry her and so you can yell at her instead,” Narcissa continues, ignoring him.

Evan tries to grab her, but she evades him, ducking behind Lucius. “Jumped up bitch,” Evan snarls, wand pointed at Lucius, who is standing between him and his target.

Narcissa peers out from behind Lucius long enough to curse Evan. It's nonverbal, and Lucius doesn't recognize the putrid green color that shoots from her wand. Evan collapses, legs no longer able to support him. His skin bubbles green and his features and limbs twist in painful directions. Narcissa steps out from behind Lucius and Evan’s motions pause. “Apologize,” she demands.

Her smile is predatory. Evan’s eyes are swollen shut, otherwise he might have, at her expression. As it is, he spits out two teeth and an insult. Narcissa raises her wand and his arms tie themselves in bow. The accompanying crunching is horrible.

“Wow,” Lucius says. “That was, well. Wow.”

She smiles. “I did worse to Rabastan Lestrange.”

“That was you?” he asks, impressed.

His attraction to dangerous women will probably be the death of him one day.

She shrugs. “Two years ago at Bellatrix’s wedding, he cornered me in a bathroom. I was wearing cursed earrings I had recently designed. They worked.”

“He's been to see Healers and Curse Breakers all over the world,” Lucius tells her. Everyone in Britain knows about Rabastan Lestrange. “What exactly did the curse do?”

“Nothing quite as exciting as Evan here,” she frowns down at the man. “But much more permanent. He’s missing something quite essential to his habit of forcing himself on unwilling women.”

“Couldn’t you press charges?” Lucius wants to know. 

She shakes her head. “We were betrothed at the time, so the only thing he’s legally guilty of is, what’s the expression? Leaping the gun? He’s also his family’s heir, since Bellatrix and Rodolphus haven’t had any children. He would get a slap on the wrist, if that. I’m the one who would get in trouble, since I interfered with his ability to continue the family line.”

“That’s not right,” he declares.

“It isn’t,” she agrees. “However, I will never hear the end of it if Evan dies, so if you’ll excuse me for a moment,” she turns to the man on the floor.

“You said you were betrothed to him. Are you still?” Lucius asks, watching as she begins to undo the curse.

“I’m not betrothed to anyone. It seems as if all of the proper pureblood men would rather take their chances with women who haven’t proven themselves to be ‘dangerously unstable,’” Narcissa tells him, as Evan’s arms untwist and the green of his skin fades. “That’s a direct quote, by the way, from Evan’s mother.”

“Well, I'm French,” he says, and winks, because pretty witches make him nervous and he’s never been accused of having common sense. “That’s hardly proper.”

She smiles. “I’m hardly proper either.”

“No?” he asks, more than a little grateful she’d decided to disregard the wink.

She’s standing in front of him now, playing with his tie. “No,” she confirms. “And I’ve had enough of pretending to be something I’m not, so if we’re going to be friends, or anything else, you’re going to know about it.”

“I’m all ears,” he informs her, liking the sound of that.

“I associated with whoever I please. In whatever manner I please,” at this, they both glance at Evan. “I want to get involved in politics myself. Not just as a lord’s wife or mistress, whatever the case may be. I run a business, which means I have my own source of income and therefore independence.”

“Really?” he's genuinely impressed. “What do you do?”

“I make jewelry with curses or protective charms,” she says. “Rabastan and the earrings turned into a lot of publicity, and I started getting requests.”

“Want to get coffee sometime?” Lucius asks hopefully, “I’d be interested in hearing more about that, and in seeing you again.”

Evan groans. Narcissa smiles. “Let’s go right now.”

They do. She grabs his arm the second they're outside Evan’s yard and they disappear soundlessly. They reappear in the middle of the woods, outside a small cottage. “Where are we?” he asks.

“My house,” Narcissa says. “I bought it a few months ago, with the money I've made.”

Lucius grins at her. “Not that I'm complaining, but what happened to coffee?”

She swats his arm. “Shush. We’re Flooing.”

“What's your business like?” he asks, trailing after her. “My father owns a company doing imports and exports.”

The cottage is covered in some sort of flowering vine and there's a small garden containing common ingredients for Potions. Inside looks like a workroom. There's a twin bed shoved into one corner, and a tiny bathroom. Every surface is covered with scraps of metal and half formed jewelry. Complicated diagrams are tacked to the walls. Lucius doesn't recognize many of the runes.

She turns to him apologetically. “It’s a bit of a mess.”

“It's phenomenal,” he corrects. “You’re brilliant.”

She doesn't blush, but she does direct a smile at him. “My family doesn't know.”

“You should tell them. This is amazing.” He gestures at one of the diagrams. “You’re an incredibly gifted witch.”

“I’m not good at playing socialite and all the Healers I've seen say I'll have trouble carrying a child to term. That's all my family cares about.”

On that note, they Floo to a café in London. It's nowhere Lucius has ever been before, and the amount of money he hands over for a simple latte is terrifying. He buys Narcissa something called a dirty chai. “Is there alcohol in that?” he asks, suspicious.

“Espresso,” she assures him, then gestures at the barista. “They know me and that I'm underage.”

He almost chokes on his drink. “You're what?”

She eyes him strangely. “Don’t you know who I am?”

“Evan’s cousin?” he offers. “Bellatrix’s sister? Not really though. I went to Durmstrang. I spend most of my time in Russia,” he shrugs. “Sorry.”

“Why are you here then?” she wants to know, then, bitterly, “If you don’t know what I’m worth.”

“I like pretty pureblood girls?” he offers. “Especially ones that can curse a guy like you.”

It's the right answer. She smiles again. There's a camera flash, but that's it, because Narcissa gives the reporter such an unpleasant look he scurries away. “We’ll be in the society pages, I'm afraid,” she says.

Lucius is startled. “Why?”

“My uncle, the Lord Black, has a gambling problem,” she waves a hand dramatically. “But he cannot gamble with political power. The man that marries me will receive a seat and a single vote in the Wizengamot. I’m a younger daughter, I am afraid. Rodolphus gained two from Uncle Orion when he married Bellatrix. She also received the vote that was contained in my mother’s dowry, so that’s another for the Lestrange family.”

“How does that work?” he wants to know.

Narcissa appears pleased with his interest. “There are one hundred votes, or seats, in the Wizengamot, which is the legislative branch of Britain's magical government. The number of seats depends on the distribution of the votes, which are inherited or gained through favors. They can also be purchased if a family is in dire enough straits. That requires the consent of both the current possessor of the vote and the person set to inherit it. The heir is the oldest male of a generation and he receives half of a family's votes when he comes of age. The rest are divided up amongst the female children when they are married as part of their dowry.”

“Who’s the heir of your family?” he asks.

“My younger cousin, Regulus. His older brother was disowned, as was my sister, Andromeda,” Narcissa explains. “My uncle has six votes, and my father had one, so Regulus gets three votes from his father when Uncle Orion dies. Bella gets two from our uncle and one from our father since she's the eldest, and I'm left with one.”

“Disowned? What for? I've never heard of anyone being disowned,” he says, fixating on that rather than the alarming amount of political power her family possesses.

Narcissa raises her eyebrows. “Did I say disowned? The official story is that they passed away tragically after a short illness,” she snorts. “My aunt declared Sirius a blood traitor because he wouldn't take the Mark. Andromeda ran off with a Muggle-born.”

“The Mark?” Lucius asks, feeling incredibly out of the know.

Now Narcissa frowns. “You don't have it? I assumed, since you were with Evan…” she trails off. “You know my sister.”

“Not friends,” he corrects. “His family is selling some interesting antiquities. I'm here on business. Bellatrix is an acquaintance.”

She nods, not questioning how well acquainted he might be with her sister. It had been one night and it had been years ago. Not worth bringing up now. “Well, have you heard of the up and coming new Dark Lord? He's all the rage amongst certain circles here in England.”

Lucius shrugs. “I don't get involved in politics,” he confesses.

“You should. Don't you want to have some say in tariffs and the like?” she inquires. “It would be very helpful for a future businessman to have political connections.”

He makes a face. “Well…”

Narcissa grins. “A smuggler. I like you even more.”

“There are a lot of laws about transporting Dark artifacts,” he says defensively.

“That’s what the Dark Lord is trying to get rid of,” Narcissa leans forward. “I don't give a damn about blood purity, but Dark magic is my life and my heritage. I won't stand for some jumped up do-gooder trying to outlaw it.”

“It's meant to be free,” Lucius agrees. “Magic shouldn't be restrained.”

“Exactly,” Narcissa exclaims.


	2. Egypt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday! I think I'm going to try and update on Fridays. I have twelve chapters written, and the first eight of them edited. I updated the rating on this from mature to explicit, and this chapter is also where the 'Underage' content warning comes into play. Thank you for reading/commenting/leaving kudos!

She’s right, as Lucius will come to discover she nearly always is. They’re in the society pages. It’s just the picture the photographer had taken of them, captioned with their names, the location, and the date. They're both smiling in it. He looks terribly earnest and she looks amused. Their knees are brushing under the table. They also make a gossip column in _the Daily Prophet_.

_Miss Narcissa Black, 16, the youngest daughter of Cygnus and Druella Black, was seen Thursday in the exclusive pureblood-only Toadstool Café with a handsome blond stranger. Our sources tell us his name is Lucius Malfoy, 23, a merchant class French wizard with questionable business ties. Could Black and Malfoy’s relationship be the cause of the dissolution of her rumored engagement to Evan Rosier, 28? Rosier was seen late Friday with one Miss Antonia Burke, 22. (More about Rosier and Burke on page 6)._

_Other sources close to the Black family, who wish to remain anonymous for their safety, suggest Narcissa Black’s involvement with Malfoy is motivated by the family's recent financial troubles, though what could bankrupt such a wealthy family remains unclear. It has also been suggested that Black’s marriage to Malfoy would stabilize the Black family by providing a competent manager of the family estates, something the past few generations of a family known for incestous marriages and madness has failed to provide._

_Malfoy attended Durmstrang. He graduated with honors in 1968, after which he attended the Moscow School of Business and Wizarding Law. Malfoy dropped out after three years for reasons we were unable to discover and has worked for his father’s company, the Malfoy Trading Corporation (MTC) since. It should be noted that there are currently two active lawsuits against MTC, one for unethical business practices and another for the smuggling of certain Dark items across international borders. MTC is thought to have a value of six million Galleons, to which Malfoy is the sole heir._

“Huh,” says Lucius. “I look old in that picture. I guess it’s the hair.”

His hair is so blond it's almost white. It’s shoulder-length, and sometimes he feels a little like one of the American founding fathers, minus the rollers. And receding hairline. Come to think of it, it might just be just be his ego talking. For Muggles, they had been fascinating. 

“Incestous marriages,” quotes Narcissa, looking displeased.

It’s Monday morning. Lucius is sprawled in her bed, and she's absently fidgeting with a bracelet. They've known each other for less than a week and, despite what _the Prophet_ and his current lounging in her bed suggest, they're not sleeping together. “Well, at least we're not related?” he offers.

“I have to leave for class soon,” she says, and then, “That's true. I'm surprised there wasn't anything in there about diversifying the bloodline in order to produce healthier heirs, less sickly than Regulus and less prone to violent fits than his mother.”

“I have a family history of alcoholism,” Lucius says. 

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Narcissa wants to know. “Or are you warning me about our hypothetical future children? You ought to be telling the papers, if so. Not me."

He shrugs. “I'm just saying. Your family might be a mess, but so is everyone else's.”

“The Malfoy family secrets aren't available to every nosy housewife in the country,” Narcissa mutters, but she seems a little lighter. “I’m sorry about your family.”

“I survived,” he says. “And you will too.”

She nods. “That's what the Black family does. Now, I really do have to go to class. I'm going to be late for Potions.”

“You could come lay down instead,” Lucius offers, rolling onto his side so there's room.

Narcissa shrugs her robes on over her uniform and then joins him. They lie facing each other. The bed is so small they're only separated by a few inches. He carefully tugs her tie loose from around her neck, and it winds itself around her wrists instead with a muttered incantation. He pushes her over, onto her back and looks at her. She smiles. “What happened to your morales about fucking underage witches?”

They had staggered back to her cottage Friday night, or perhaps early Saturday after a night of drinking in a Muggle bar. She had been fumbling for her keys while trying to undo the buttons on her blouse and he had been kissing her neck and sliding his hands up under her shirt. The door had finally clicked open and they had tumbled inside. He was at least eight inches taller than she was, and she was far too tipsy to stay balanced on her toes while they made out. He had finally flopped backward onto her bed, and she had climbed on top of him. 

They were both shirtless and her fingers were curled in the waistband of his trousers when the fog began to clear from their brains. “You're underage,” he had murmured, pushing her away. 

He slept on the floor.

Now she’s arching her back as she pulls against the tie. He is holding her hands down firmly, and she smiles a little more every time she strains and doesn't manage to budge. He gets on top of her then, and his free hand comes to rest on her throat. “Can I?” he asks.

She nods quickly. “Please.”

“Say it again,” he says, kissing down her jawline.

She struggles against the tie and bucks her hips against his. “Please, Lucius.”

His fingers tighten around her throat and she tilts her head back, eyes sliding shut. “Tell me if you want me to stop,” he whispers, and bites her ear.

“Please don’t,” she gasps as he begins to grind against her. “Fuck, please.”

“You’re underage,” he tells her, letting her hands up. “And from a good family. What would the papers say?”

The hand that isn't on her throat slides under her sweater, and his thumb brushes over one of her nipples. Her body jerks sharply. She rests her hands against his chest, and he watches the way her eyelids flutter when he rolls that same nipple between his thumb and forefinger. “Forget the papers and my family,” she tells him, hands sliding down and fumbling with his belt.

He lets her go and sits up abruptly. “What about Potions?”

“You're a tease,” she informs him as she begins to straighten her clothing.

He shrugs. “I guess we'll just have to do this again sometime.”

“You know where I live,” she says. “You're welcome to stay here whenever you'd like, by the way. I sleep at Hogwarts most weeknights so it's usually empty. Just don't touch anything; there's some experimental stuff laying around.”

“Thank you. I'll drop by whenever I'm in England,” he promises. “I don't know when the next time that'll be is.”

“I'm already looking forward to it,” she smiles and slips out the door.

She's gone when he looks out the window. He hadn't even heard her Apparate.

\-------

He bounces from country to country, spends three weeks in an Italian prison when he's found tangled in a border ward and in possession of three pounds of uncut rubies on his way out of Switzerland, and keeps a careful eye on news from Britain. Narcissa appears frequently, at balls, hosting gatherings with her mother, as a bridesmaid in Evan Rosier and Antonia Burke’s wedding, on a page detailing the honors roll at Hogwarts, and in her both her father and uncle’s business dealings. It seems that neither Bellatrix nor her husband are interested in managing Orion Black’s management of their wealth and Regulus Black is only ten years old, so Narcissa has taken it upon herself to control the family finances.

He has little doubt she's the one truly in control. Orion Black has disappeared from notable gambling dens, if the people Lucius questions on the matter are to be believed, only playing low-stakes poker with family friends. He's started making interest payments on some of his debts, and for the first time in eight years, Black business interests are turning a profit. Lucius suspects that Narcissa has either drugged or Imperiused her uncle, and bribed her aunt into complacence in order to accomplish her goals.

He's in Egypt, trying the wheedle a very elderly, very ill-tempered wizard out of an amulet rumored to protect the wearer from the curses on tombs when he receives a letter from her.

_My dear Mr. Malfoy,_

_I was delighted to discover your presence in Egypt. It would please me greatly if, while enjoying the lovely country, you paid a visit to one Ms. Marzouk, who resides in Alexandria. The ring enclosed in this envelope will guide you to her location, and serve as proof that I have sent you. She makes wonderful hibiscus tea. A trip to Egypt would not be complete without having a cup. She will also give you a package and I will pay you a sum of 100 Galleons if you are able to bring me the package in a timely fashion i.e. at least a week before the summer solstice. Please refrain from opening the package as it disrupt the Stasis Charm on one of the items contained therein.  
Would you do me the honor of accompanying me to the British Solstice celebration? _

_Fondly,  
Miss Narcissa Black_

It's two weeks until the summer solstice, and he's in Cairo. The crotchety wizard is showing no signs of parting with the amulet, and his father thinks he's here on vacation anyway, so not acquiring the amulet won't trigger a lecture or a fit of rage. Lucius packs his bag, slips on the ring, and disappears with a pop. 

It takes him the better part of two days to track down Ms. Marzouk, who turns out to be a middle-aged widow living in a magically expanded apartment crammed floor to ceiling with shelves that are, in turn, stuffed with books and knick knacks. She makes excellent tea, as Narcissa had promised, and he buys a book on tomb protections and curses for her, as well as a pair of cufflinks enchanted to always know the location of the wearer’s drink for his father who cannot seem to keep track of a cup of coffee or a bottle of whiskey to save his life. 

A cat settles in his lap while he's politely making small talk with the woman, and before he knows it it's been an hour and he has a recommendation on where the have dinner and a standing invitation to return for tea whenever he wants. He invites Ms. Marzouk to dinner with him, but she declines. “I think Miss Black would not approve,” she tells him. “She is rather territorial.”

Whatever that means. He thanks her, and leaves after giving the cat’s ears a final scratch. The restaurant she had suggested has a name he can’t pronounce, but it's cheap and the food is amazing. Lucius eats as much as he can. He tips handsomely and turns on the spot in the alley, reappearing on the Libyan border. The problem with smuggling Dark artefacts and traveling around the world rather than just between a few countries is crossing borders. They are heavily warded to prevent Apparating into or out of the country unless you are keyed into the wards, and even then they're alarmed to detect Dark magic. 

This leads to Lucius spending an inordinate amount of time levitating and contorting himself in order to squeeze through holes and gaps in the border wards when possible, otherwise carefully unwinding strands of magic in order to create his own path through. Occasionally, as the Italian incident showed, it was a struggle. Happily, he and other smugglers frequented this area and holes were common. Unhappily, so was law enforcement presence. A dark shape rises from the bushes, commanding, “Halt!”

Other shapes appear, and Lucius catches the flash of badges and spells as he dives through a gap made visible by a murmured incantation. He's safe from Egyptian authorities now, and Apparates as one of the men waiting on the Libyan side of the border makes a grab for him. He doesn't have any problems on his way into Algeria, but the Moroccan border has been recently repaired and strengthened, forcing him to work slowly and carefully to avoid tripping an alarm. 

He makes it through. Lucius is, after all, very good at what he does. Next, and worst, he has to make it across the Strait of Gibraltar. It's several miles and he has an unpleasant memory of his Conjured boat failing once, dumping him and several thousand Galleons worth of merchandise into the water. Salt water tends to erode the enchantments on objects. It had not been pretty. This time, he Disillusions himself and a broomstick and flies. It's surprising calm, and he's able to circumvent the Spanish wards entirely. From there, he slips into France, flies across the English Channel, and Apparates to Narcissa’s cottage. 

It had been raining over the channel and it’s raining here too, so he stands in the small clearing, dripping slightly, and enjoying whatever climate control charm she was using. A storm rages all around him, but it's sunny and humid in the clearing. The door opens, and a boy sticks his head out. “Narcissa,” he hollers. “You have a gentleman caller.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a good weekend, everybody!


	3. Not Just Stuff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone. Happy Friday! The new semester has officially begun, and I would be buried under an avalanche of paper if not for the fact that most things are electronic now. Cheers!
> 
> Mentions of child abuse in this chapter.

Narcissa appears, and beams when she sees Lucius. “You came!”

The boy dashes around her and bounces up to him. “I'm Regulus Black,” he says, as imperiously as he can manage.

Lucius bows. “Heir Black, it's an honor.”

The boy grins. “Do you like Quidditch? Are you coming shopping with us? Do you go to Hogwarts with Narcissa?”

“I played Chaser when I was in school,” Lucius tells the boy. “I graduated several years ago though.”

“Awesome,” says Regulus. “I want to play Seeker when I go to Hogwarts.”

“I always admired Seekers the most,” Lucius tells him conspiratorially. “They have the most important job.”

Regulus is so full of energy it looks like he's going to vibrate out of his skin. “We should go broomstick shopping while we're getting my Hogwarts supplies!” the boy exclaims.

Lucius glances at Narcissa, who is smiling fondly at the boy. “Lucius and I have a bit of business to discuss first, but then if he isn't busy we can go to Diagon Alley together.”

The boy crows triumphantly. “Let's get ice cream!”

He lets a Snitch go, and proceeds to chase it around the cottage on foot. Narcissa gestures Lucius to join her inside. He hands her the package, and offers her the book he'd bought, feeling a little foolish. “I thought you might like this, if you could adapt some of the curses to jewelry.”

She smiles, scanning through the pages. “This is wonderful,” she tells him, and hugs him.

Up close, the dark circles under her eyes are very apparent, as is the tension in her shoulders and the tremor in her hands. That confirmed his theory as to how she was controlling her uncle. The Imperius Curse caused the caster to shake if they used it for an extended amount of time. He grasps her hands, and sends her a pulse of magical energy. She's exhausted and drained, and, he reminds himself, not quite seventeen. The full control of an Ancient and Most Noble House was more than many adult wizards could handle. 

“Thank you,” she tells him, and takes the package from him.

She sets it gently on the counter, and grabs her purse. “Ice cream?” he inquires.

She nods. “Technically Hogwarts shopping, but Regulus has been through hell with what's been going on with his brother.”

“Sirius,” Lucius says. “You said he'd been disowned.”

Narcissa nods grimly. “I convinced Walburga to change her mind, but he refused to come back. She's been in a rage for months, and was taking it out on Regulus. He's been staying with me for the past two weeks, since I found out.”

Lucius shakes his head. “I will never understand parents that hurt their children.”

She sighs. “Me neither.”

They walk outside, just as Regulus pounces on the toy Snitch. Lucius whoops and claps. “A phenomenal catch by Black,” he calls, to the boy’s delight.

“Are we going shopping?” he asks hopefully. 

“We are,” says Narcissa. “First we're going to Gringotts. Remember to be very polite to the goblins. Some day you'll work very closely with them to manage the Black accounts and it will be much easier if they like you.”

She links arms with them, and they appear outside Gringotts, once through the doors, Narcissa steers them to a back office. The goblin behind the desk eyes Lucius with distrust, but his attention snaps back to Regulus when the boy bows. “Hello, sir. I wish to travel to the Black monetary accounts for a withdrawal for myself and my cousin’s school supplies.”

“Very well, Master Black. Will that be all?” the goblin inquires.

The boy nods. “I wish to transfer money from my personal account to the account of Mr. Lucius Malfoy,” Narcissa says. 

The goblin slides her a slip of paper, which she fills out briskly. Lucius is alarmed to discover she used a Blood Quill, as he signs for the transaction as well. “Thank you,” he tells her.

She nods, and they trail after Regulus and the goblin, who is being subjected to the boy’s curiosity. They all endure a steady stream of questions until they arrive at the Black monetary vault. Regulus turns imploring eyes to Narcissa. “Please don't make me open the door,” he says. “It hurts.”

“Just this time,” she agrees. “You get used to it eventually though and it won't be so bad.”

Regulus doesn't seem convinced, and watches, wide-eyed, as Narcissa pulls a knife out of nowhere and slices her palm. “Do you remember how to draw the rune?” she asks, offering Regulus her bloody hand.

He nods, and very serious dabs a rune onto the door to the vault. It slides open, revealing more gold than Lucius knew existed. Narcissa counts out money for herself, and instructs Regulus to collect five hundred Galleons for himself. The goblin offers the boy a coin purse, which he gladly accepts.

\-------

“Are you ready to go wand shopping?” Narcissa asks.

Regulus gives her hand, now bandaged, a guilty look. “I don't understand why the knife has to be cursed,” he sulks.

She tucks her hand into her pocket. “I have a potion at home that'll fix it right up,” she soothes.

He appears doubtful, but allows her to guide him to Ollivander’s. “Miss Black,” the elderly wandmaker greets her. “Rosewood and phoenix feather, twelve inches. Unyielding.”

Narcissa inclines her head. “Mr. Ollivander, it's a pleasure.”

Lucius attempts to look harmless when Ollivander frowns at him and says, “I don't recognize this one.”

“Elm and dragon heartstring,” Lucius offers.

Ollivander makes a thoughtful noise and turns to Regulus. “You're the one here shopping then, I presume.”

“Yes, sir,” Regulus responds. 

He finds his wand on the fourth attempt. It's poplar and dragon heartstring, and Regulus is thrilled. They have ice cream to celebrate, and it's then that a reporter approaches them. “Miss Black, Miss Black,” he calls, a photographer scurrying after him.

Narcissa, who had finally relaxed slightly and was watching with amusement as Lucius and Regulus flicked a balled up napkin scrap back and forth, Lucius narrating like it was a Quidditch match, looks cold again as she faces the reporter. “Can I help you?” she inquires.

A camera bulb flashes. She does not look pleased. “Give us a statement about the rumored sale of one of your family's seats in the Wizengamot,” the man demands.

“It's just that,” Narcissa replies. “A rumor. The House of Black remains as powerful and steadfast as ever.”

“If the sale goes through you'll lose the seat in your dowry, won't you? Will that be the end of your engagement to Rabastan Lestrange?”

“I am not, nor will I be, engaged to Mr. Lestrange. None of my family's seats are available and they never will be. Now, please leave before I report you for harassment,” Narcissa turns away, and takes another bite of her ice cream. 

It's a very clear dismissal, but the reporter hesitates. Lucius raises an eyebrow. “You heard her,” he says silkily. “Leave.”

He hurries away. Regulus looks upset, glancing between them. “Mother says you have to marry Mr. Lestrange,” he whispers. “She's going to be really mad at you for saying you won't.”

“I’ll handle your mother,” Narcissa growls. “And I'll die before that pig of a man lays a hand on me or my seat.”

“She’ll hurt you like she hurt Sirius,” Regulus frets. “When he said he wouldn't meet You-Know-Who. She doesn't like when people tell her no.”

“How did your mother hurt Sirius?” Narcissa asks gently.

Regulus is agitated by now, twisting a napkin. “I'm don't know the spell,” he whispers. “Sirius screamed and screamed.”

Lucius looks at the white face of Regulus and the shaking hands of Narcissa and thinks some things run in the family. “Regulus,” says Narcissa. “I’ll be seventeen in two weeks, so I could take custody of you then. Until then I think Uncle Orion will let you stay with me. If I could do something so that you didn't have to go back to your mother, would you like that? You would go to Hogwarts, of course, but instead of going home you'd come live with me for the summers.”

Regulus nods. “Will you hurt her?” he asks fearfully.

“I’ll have Uncle Orion commit her to St. Mungo's. They'll take care of her there, and she won't be able to hurt anyone,” Narcissa assures him.

Regulus frowns. “Father will never agree to that.”

“You would be surprised,” Narcissa murmurs. “Now, enough of that. Let's get books and Potions supplies and then look at Quidditch stuff.”

It works to distract Regulus. “It's not just stuff,” he exclaims, hurriedly finishing his ice cream.

Lucius stands. “I’ll meet you outside Quality Quidditch Supplies?” he offers. “I have some business in Knockturn Alley.”

Narcissa nods, and ruffles Regulus’s hair. “Looks like you're stuck with me, which means robe shopping too.”

He squeaks indignantly, waves to Lucius, and trails after his cousin. Lucius walks to his goal, a sleazy pub where the commercial district of Knockturn turns into the residential district of another alley. Once inside, he locates his target and throws the man into a wall. Several people scream. “Where's my money, Dolohov?” he shouts. 

Lucius occasionally encountered Antonin Dolohov on jobs. They ran in many of the same circles, and performed many of the same services for many of the same people. Prior to Lucius’s trip to Egypt, they had worked together on a small job. Dolohov had done less than half of the work, and disappeared with the entirety of the payment. 

The big man groans. “Fuck off.” 

Well, Lucius had asked. He drags the man to Malfoy Manor. The Manor is decrepit and crumbling, more intimidation tactic that residence at this point. No one has lived here for generations. The grounds are overgrown, but there's a fountain with water still standing in it. Lucius drags Dolohov to it, and sticks his head in. The man comes up sputtering, and spits, “Fine.”

Lucius cheerfully hands him a Gringotts transfer slip he'd grabbed while at the bank with the Blacks. When Lucius receives confirmation of the transfer, he dumps Dolohov at the bar and goes to find Narcissa. Unsurprisingly, she has managed to find trouble again, this time in the form of Evan and Antonia Rosier. She has one hand on her hip and is holding her wand in the other.

“Is there a problem?” he asks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a good day! Thanks for reading!


	4. The Solstice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday, everyone! I hope your week was better than mine, as I ended up with the flu? A severe cold? Something horrible, whatever it was. If you have any thoughts or opinions on Snape I would love to hear them. I hated him in canon, but I've read some fics where I really liked him. I'm torn as to what his role in this story should be, so let me know!

Evan glares. Regulus ducks behind Lucius. “Mrs. Rosier called Narcissa a whore,” he informs Lucius. 

Lucius looks at the offending Mrs. Rosier, who shrinks back. “Leave,” Narcissa says.

They do, but not before Evan spits at her feet. “His father was a younger son,” she informs Lucius. “And the heir of a family is the only male to receive votes in the Wizengamot. Antonia didn't come with any votes either, so for all his last name does for him, it'll never land him a government position.”

She looks pleased. Regulus shifts nervously. “Quit it,” Narcissa tells him absently. “You'll be the Lord of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black one day.”

Regulus stops shifting, and straightens up. “Yes, Narcissa.”

She smiles at him. “Let's go buy you a broom.”

He gets a Nimbus 1801, which is essentially the same as a Nimbus 1800 but with more safety features after an unfortunate series of accidents several years ago. Regulus is thrilled. “Can I fly it when we get home?”

Narcissa nods.

\-------

The Solstice is something else. Narcissa had evidently gone robe shopping for all of them while they had been in Diagon Alley, because he and Regulus have been stuffed into airy silk robes and draped in silver chains and precious stones. Regulus is wearing a ring that announces him as the Black Heir, and looks uncomfortable but very rich in the forest green robes Narcissa has dressed him in. Lucius’s own robes are navy blue with silver snakes embroidered into them. The snakes twist and slither, their sapphire eyes following Regulus as he paces. “My mother will be there,” he tells Lucius morosely. 

“No, she won't,” Narcissa emerges from the small bathroom, and Lucius feels his jaw drop when he sees her. 

Her robes are silver, matching the brilliant gleam of her and Regulus’s eyes. A silver snake curls around her arm, and Lucius is startled to see it breathe. It raises its head and tastes the air as she approaches Lucius. Her honey blonde hair is drawn up in a severe and elaborate bun, threads of spun silver pulled through it. Her face is painted in the Black family pattern, just as Regulus’s is. Three silver dots arched over each eyebrow, three curved under each eye, and a wide line on her chin. 

“She won't?” Regulus asks hopefully. 

Narcissa frowns at Lucius and, with a flick of her wand, draws a horizontal gray line on each of his cheeks. “She's in St. Mungo’s for an indeterminate amount of time. A while, given that she keeps insulting the staff. We can visit if you'd like.”

Regulus shakes his head emphatically. “No, thank you.”

Lucius peers into the mirror, eyeing the gray lines critically. “What do these mean?” 

“Non-noble,” Narcissa replies. “Hold still,” she dabs three silver dots above his left eyebrow. “Those mean you're a guest of the Black family. If I'm busy stick with Regulus. He knows what all of the patterns mean. Keep the Lestrange brothers away from him.” 

She grabs them, and they appear outside a grand building of creamy marble. She locates her mother once they're inside. “Narcissa,” the woman coos.

Lucius examines her. She has Narcissa's blonde hair and pale skin, but her eyes are warm and blue, a sharp contrast to Narcissa’s, whose are the silver typical of the Black family. She has blue feathers painted on her cheeks, and three silver dots above her right eyebrow. Regulus, Lucius imagines, is what the typical Black looks like. Dark hair, olive skin, silver eyes. This is confirmed when Orion and Cygnus Black appear. They're both drunk and loud. Narcissa skillfully evades her father’s wandering hands, and she curtsies. 

“My lord,” she murmurs, “Father.”

Lucius and Regulus hurriedly bow. “Good to see you,” Orion booms.

Narcissa's hands aren't shaking, Lucius notes, which means she's loosened her grip on the man. Maybe not entirely, he decides, as Orion keeps a firm hold of Cygnus’s arm and soon leads him away. 

“Who's this?” Druella inquires, looking at Lucius and much more relaxed with the departure of her husband.

“This is Lucius Malfoy, mother,” Narcissa says, waving a server over.

She puts a glass of champagne in her mother’s hand and Lucius’s, giving Regulus what Lucius suspects is sparkling apple juice. Druella drains the glass. “Malfoy? Is he French?”

“Yes, mother,” says Narcissa, helping herself to hors d'oeuvres and emptying the entire dessert tray for Regulus.

Druella makes a disapproving noise. “Is he pureblood, at least?”

“Yes, mother,” Narcissa says. “His father is a very successful merchant.”

This gets Druella’s attention. “Is he? We should talk to your father about arranging a marriage. Merlin knows no one of a proper class will take you after that nonsense of an affair with Evan and how you treated poor Rabastan.”

Narcissa smiles demurely. “Yes, mother.”

Lucius was not surprised by what Druella was implying, and it made sense that the high class wizards Narcissa would likely have been offered to wouldn't appreciate her past. “I'm set to inherit my father’s business,” he offers. “It's worth about six and a half million Galleons.”

Druella looks positively cheery at that. “Let me find my husband,” she tells him. “We can sign the papers tonight.”

As soon as she's gone, Regulus perks up. “You should get married,” he says around a mouthful of pastry.

Narcissa looks sour. “Ignore my family,” she says.

“What if I don't want to?” Lucius asks. 

She pauses. “You'd want to marry me? I don't have much money and I'm not a virgin.”

“Gross,” Regulus mutters. 

He's ignored. Lucius shrugs. “I don't care. You're brilliant and beautiful.”

“I might never be able to have children,” she warns.

“We could adopt if you wanted them?” Lucius asks. 

“I'm keeping my own finances and the Wizengamot seat,” she tries.

“Sounds good,” Lucius tells her

She eyes him suspiciously. “Okay.” 

As far as proposals go it hadn't been particularly romantic, but marriage rarely was with purebloods. Lucius made a mental note to write his father and inform him of recent developments. Not that the old man cared. Lucius watches Narcissa slip away, eyes locked on someone toward the edge of the room. It was Bellatrix. The eldest Black sister had a band of rust colored triangles painted across her forehead in addition to the familiar silver pattern, which he assumed meant she was married to a Lestrange. Regulus follows his gaze and shivers. “Don't catch her attention,” he warns Lucius. “She's like Narcissa but loud scary instead of sneaky scary.”

Lucius nodded. “I've met her,” he tells Regulus. “What do you think they're talking about?”

“You, probably,” Regulus says. 

“Me?” Lucius demands, suddenly alarmed. “Why?”

“Narcissa is probably telling Bella not to worry about you since you don't hurt her. If you did they might kill you after the wedding so Narcissa would have the legal rights of a widow but wouldn't have to deal with you,” he pauses thoughtfully. “They might be talking about Uncle Cygnus too. He wasn't very nice to them growing up, and I think they're planning something.”

Lucius frowns at the boy. “I would never hurt Narcissa,” he promises.

Regulus nods. “I know. Narcissa always says you can tell if people are nice by how they treat the people they don't have anything to gain from, and you're nice to me even though I'm in your way.”

“You're not in my way,” he tells Regulus.

The boy disagrees. “I'm staying with her, and so are you, but you can't do anything with her since I'm there.”

“I've known Narcissa for months and we've never done anything,” Lucius assures him.

Regulus frowns. “Why not? You like her, and she already has a bad reputation because of Mr. Rosier and Mr. Lestrange.” 

Lucius decides not to answer the boy’s question on the grounds that he's eleven. They both look back at Narcissa, who touches Bellatrix’s arm, scans the room, and sets off toward her father and uncle. Bellatrix watches her go, murmurs something under her breath that causes her husband to appear, and drags him out a side door.

“Why did Andromeda run away with a Muggle-born?” Lucius asks.

Regulus shrugs. “Same reason Narcissa is marrying you. Same reason Bella took the Mark. Same reason Sirius made friends with James Potter. She saw a way out. Can you keep a secret?”

He nods, studying the nervous way the boy spins the Black ring. “I won't tell anyone.”

“None of our parents are very nice,” Regulus begins quietly. “My father was never home much and he gambled a lot. And my mother takes our family name very seriously. I asked why Muggle women wore pants once, and she locked me in my room for three days with no food,” he recalls. “Uncle Cygnus is worse though. At least with my mother she wouldn't hurt you if you did everything she wanted. He's different. And Aunt Druella just ignores everything.”

Lucius feels cold. “Is that why you think they're planning something? Because Cygnus hurt them?”

Regulus nods. “And they want control of the family finances and Wizengamot seats. Narcissa does, anyway. I think Bella just wants away from Lord Lestrange. He wasn't very nice to her either.”

“Wasn't?” Lucius prompts.

The boy shrugs. “My father used to gamble and let my mother do whatever she wanted. Now he does what Narcissa wants. I think Bella does the same thing to make Lord Lestrange be nice.”

“Does it bother you that Narcissa wants the family power for herself?” Lucius inquires.

“No,” Regulus says firmly, then lowers his voice. “I don't want anything to do with it. I want to be a Healer for children. I won't ever ignore it when someone comes in with bruises or burns from a cigarette just because their family has money.”

Lucius waves a server over and offers Regulus a pastry. “I'll make sure nothing bad happens to you or Narcissa.” 

Regulus looks sad. “That’s a nice sentiment, but you shouldn't make promises you might not keep.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Have a good day!


	5. (Probably) Patricide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TGIF though, right? This week was crazy and I'm exhausted. This chapter is also super short, which I did not realize. I had been writing everything in the same Google doc until it got touchy about loading, so I split things up and not everything ended up even. I'm considering making this a series and uploading one-shots that are like, snapshots of what Narcissa is up to while Lucius does his thing.

Narcissa rejoins them several hours later, as it's getting dark and the bonfire is starting. Lucius is relieved. Regulus, when not distracted by Quidditch, is very serious for an eleven year old. Lucius is not equipped to handle some of the boy’s thoughts and questions. Bellatrix is nowhere in sight, another cause for relief. Narcissa has a sheaf of papers. “The marriage contract,” she explains. 

He reads it. There are clauses specifying that no children are required to come from their relationship, that she maintains the ability to control her own finances, that she can have a career. There's nothing in it saying Lucius has to do anything, it's all about making sure he can't force her to become her mother, he suspects. “Looks good,” he tells her. 

“The wedding will be after I graduate,” she informs him. 

He nods, and holds her hand for the rest of the night. It's cut short by the discovery of Cygnus Black’s body, hung in a bathroom stall. The Aurors take statements from the tearful Black sisters, and Druella collapses when she hears the news. It's decided that Rodolphus Lestrange must be to blame, as he has disappeared and a smudge of paint on Cygnus’s hand matches the Lestrange colors.

\-------

**Love and Loss in the Black Family**

_It's been a dramatic week for the Black family! Miss Narcissa Black caused quite the scandal when she agreed to marry one Mr. Lucius Malfoy. That's right ladies and gentlemen, the same Malfoy she has been spotted with on numerous occasions. What could have inspired the young Miss Black to marry a merchant class French man seven years her senior? It couldn't have been the death of her father, Mr. Cygnus Black, 53, who was found dead at the exclusive British Solstice Celebration, apparently moments after Mr. Malfoy and Miss Black signed their marriage contract. Sources report that their wedding will be some time during the summer after Miss Black finishes her final year at Hogwarts._

_Perhaps the most shocking part of the night, however, was the warrant the Department of Magical Law Enforcement issued in regards to Mr. Black’s death. Lord Rodolphus Lestrange, husband of Lady Bellatrix Lestrange née Black, is the main suspect in Mr. Black’s death! Lestrange has not been located as of this article’s printing. Anyone with information on Lestrange’s whereabouts is encouraged to owl the Violent Crimes unit of the DMLE._

\-------

It's Narcissa’s seventeenth birthday and she, Lucius, and Regulus are having breakfast on her porch. “I can't believe you're a real adult,” says Regulus, mouth stuffed with toast.

Narcissa makes a noncommittal noise. She's going through the day’s post, and is frowning at a long letter from Bellatrix. “They haven't caught Rodolphus,” she says. “And Rabastan is refusing to cooperate in locating him.”

“Is that good?” Lucius wants to know, also around a piece of toast.

“He’ll have lost his right to hold a seat in the Wizengamot,” she says. “Which means Bellatrix has the vote from father and will inherit two from Uncle Orion when he dies. She also has two from Rodolphus since he's now considered a felon. She's signing the seats over to me as of today, and father’s will be mine and active immediately due to his unfortunate passing, as will the seats from Rodolphus. I’ll get an owl when it's official.”

“She's signing them over?” Regulus demands. “Why?”

Narcissa shrugs. “She wants to devote her life to the Dark Lord. He has very little use for politics, and encourages his followers to feel likewise.”

“Do you want to join the Dark Lord?” Regulus wants to know.

Narcissa shakes her head. “I refuse to be the property of a madman.”

“I thought you supported him?” Lucius asks, surprised.

“I do, on certain topics. If Bellatrix asks, I'll vote whatever way he desires. I will not give him my life and freedom, especially since it would be more effective to threaten and bribe the Wizengamot to enact the changes he wishes to see rather than attempting to overthrow the entire government. I also believe that blood purism is complete nonsense. Look at Lily Evans. Muggle-born, but brilliant. Then look at Evan Rosier. He's an idiot,” she has apparently thought about this quite a bit.

Lucius nods thoughtfully. “Will you vote a certain way on tariffs or laws if I ask you?” he wants to know.

She nods, then turns to Regulus. “You will, of course, be accompanying me to meetings of the Wizengamot. Your father has appointed me as his proxy in light of his recent decision to flee the country.”

Lucius doesn’t blame the man. He suspects that Orion had briefly shaken free of Narcissa’s Imperius, seen the direction the wind was blowing, and fled. 

“Do I have to?” Regulus asks. “I don't want the votes. I want to be a Healer and help people, not sit around arguing about the number of bristles on a broomstick.”

Narcissa looks pleased. “If you still feel that way when you turn seventeen you can sign the votes over.”

“I agree with you about everything anyway,” Regulus points out. “I'd rather you sat with all of those stuffy old men.”

“You and me both,” Lucius tells the boy. 

Narcissa gives them both a fond smile. “I don't understand your distaste for politics,” she informs them, “But I'm grateful.”

Lucius fidgets. “I kind of have a surprise for you. It's not much right now, but with some work…” he trails off.

“What is it?” she asks. “You agreed to marry me, which saves me at least a decade of harassment from my mother and younger sons of lesser pureblood families. That's the best gift I could have hoped for.”

“Is it a broom?” Regulus sounds hopeful.

“Well,” Lucius says, “It includes a very rundown Quidditch Pitch.”

They both look confused. “What?” Narcissa asks.

“It's my family's ancestral home. No one has lived there in ages, but I had someone look at it and it's structurally sound,” he says this very fast.

“Can we go see? I want to see the Quidditch Pitch,” Regulus is quivering with excitement.

“If Narcissa says it's okay,” Lucius tells him. “I went through everything myself. There's no curses left, just the outer wards and they're very worn.”

Narcissa finishes her toast in two bites and her tea in a gulp. It's very unladylike, and Lucius brushes a crumb off her face. “You're the best,” he informs her.

“Let's go,” she says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have an awesome weekend! (Personally I'm going to sleep like 14 hours straight, and maybe study. Never let anyone tell you college is going to be easy.)


	6. Malfoy Manor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus update! AKA I am procrastinating.

He grabs their arms and they appear outside Malfoy Manor. Lucius is uncomfortably aware of how shabby it appears. Once grand, the Manor is in a state of extreme disrepair. They walk up the drive, past the fountain he had dunked Dolohov in, and to the main entrance. One of the large oaken doors hangs at an angle. “Welcome home,” Lucius quips nervously, pulling the door open.

The interior is moldy. There's water damage, and the wallpaper is peeling. The entrance hall has a door leading to a coatroom on the left, a sitting room on the right, and a large, crumbling staircase to the second floor in the center. Behind the stairs is the kitchen, with the door to a guest wing on the right, and the door to what Lucius thinks might be quarters for servants on the left. Narcissa wanders from room to room with a Conjured parchment and quill, making notes to herself. Lucius and Regulus trail after her.

On the second floor there's a ballroom, a formal dining room, a bathroom, and three rooms for various types of entertaining. “One room for cards, a sitting room for the men, and a sitting room for women,” Narcissa explains.

The third floor contains an immense, dusty library and a series of rooms intended as offices. Regulus accidentally discovers that one of the rooms contains a secret room behind it when he leans against a shelf. “Wicked,” he declares.

The fourth floor is the family’s living area. It contains a large sitting area, a collection of bedrooms to the left, and the master bedroom to the right. There's an owlery, and an attic too, full of musty furniture and faded paintings. “We’ll need at least two house elves,” Narcissa remarks. “And this place is not going to attract them.”

House elves chose to permanently bind themselves to a family, Lucius recalls. They worked for, but were not bound to their mother’s family until they were fully grown. Then they set out on their own to look for a family, or performed a ritual to bind themselves to their mother's family. She was right. House elves prefered well established households where they would be comfortable. 

“I can start making repairs,” Lucius offers. 

Narcissa shakes her head. “To the wards, yes. Don't worry about the physical aspects. I'll handle it.”

“The Quidditch Pitch?” Regulus asks hopefully.

“Let's see the grounds then,” Narcissa sighs.

They go to the Quidditch Pitch first. One of the hoops has snapped in half, and the grass is severely overgrown, but other than that it isn't in terrible shape. While Regulus is marvelling at the ancient brooms he dug out of the broomshed, Lucius pulls Narcissa aside. “Is this okay?” he asks anxiously. “I know it's a lot and you've got your own place already. If it's going to be too expensive or hard to fix we can just leave it.”

Narcissa pats his arm. She's usually uncomfortable initiating physical contact, so this is a big gesture. “I love it,” she tells him. “And it won't be too expensive. I’m good with physical magic. All I need are the raw materials to work with, that way the work I do will be long-lasting. The wards would be expensive, but I expect you can manage those better than most professionals.”

Lucius puffs up a little. “How much do you want to spend?” he asks.

She studies her parchment. “A million, maybe a little more. That's just a rough estimate. I'd have to see the rest of the grounds to be precise.”

“A what?” Lucius asks faintly.

She eyes him. “I can cover it. Uncle Orion won't question it, and Regulus will be fine with it. I'm hoping to make it back in two years once I've turned the Black business interests around.”

“Isn't your family having money trouble?” Lucius wants to know.

Now she shrugs. “Our current liquid assets total around two and a half millions Galleons. Our family net worth is close to eight million Galleons. It was much more before my parents’ and their parents’ generations made some questionable decisions.”

Lucius interprets this to mean that the Blacks are still obscenely wealthy by normal standards, but worryingly poor by their own reckoning. “My father spends everything that doesn't go back into the business,” he confesses. “I have about ten thousand Galleons of my own from side jobs, but that's it.”

She shrugs again. “When you inherit, what kind of annual profit will you be looking at?” 

“About a million Galleons,” Lucius says. “We make three, but two are put back into the company. What are the Black business interests?”

“Mostly tea,” Narcissa replies. “We act as a wholesaler for the most part, but there's four cafés. We went to one, remember?”

“I do,” Lucius says. “Is it really all tea though? What if there's a bad crop?”

“Then there's a bad crop,” she tells him. “And we don't throw a Yule ball that year.”

“That's terrifying,” he decides. 

She agrees, and Regulus bounces back to them. “This is awesome,” he declares. “What else is there?”

They walk. Lucius points out a forest, where a protected strain of Bowtruckle lives, an area meant for a vegetable garden, an area meant for Potions ingredients, an expansive flower garden complete with overgrown paths, an orchard full of various fruit trees, and the remaining grounds for strolling. 

“This is going to be boring,” Narcissa warns Regulus, and then she turns to Lucius. “What do you think of a marble facade? It would be white.”

They go back through the Manor in painstaking detail. Every from the design of the rugs to the color of the drapes is decided. Regulus gets to pick and design his own room, which he likes. He goes with a brilliant shade of green for the walls, and asks for posters of several famous seekers. Lucius claims the office with a secret room for his own, and Narcissa selects the one next to it, closest to the library. “This will be for the Black business,” she decides. 

The office on the other side of Lucius's is slated to be for her own jewelry cursing and crafting business. The master bedroom is a point of contention. Narcissa claims not to care. Lucius insists that it's as much her space as it is his, and that she should be comfortable. “What did you want when you were a little girl?” he finally asks.

He knew what he'd wanted when he was younger. He had decided very early on that he would be a kind husband and an attentive father. He would take his son to Quidditch matches, and play with him too. He'd let his wife eat what she wanted and dress as she pleased and have whatever sort of friends she wanted, and if she didn't want children of her own they could adopt. During his teenage years Lucius used to imagine falling asleep next to a woman he loved. The imagined weight and warmth of another body beside his was comfortable. In the morning they would wake up in an airy and light bedroom, with sunlight streaming through the windows. They would laugh a lot, ruffle their son’s hair, and be rich enough that they would only work when they wanted. Lucius tells Narcissa all of this very earnestly and against his better judgement.

She sits on the floor, kicking up a puff of dust from the carpet. He's alarmed to observe that she's crying. He looks desperately at Regulus, who looks just as panicked. He sits down next to her. “It's okay,” he says. “Everything will be okay. Can I hug you?” 

She shakes her head, so Lucius scoots away from her in order to give her more space. The most alarming part of all of this, he decides, is that she doesn't make any noise when she cries. “You're safe,” Lucius tries. “I won't let anyone hurt you.”

Faster breathing. More tears. Lucius thinks that's probably bad. “You're the most amazing woman I've ever met and I'm happy I'm going to spend the rest of my life with you because no matter how good what I imagined was, you're better,” he offers.

She buries her face in her arms. Right. “Let's not worry about this room right now,” Lucius decides. “Let's go home.”

He and Regulus sit outside Narcissa's cottage, watching the sunset. “Does this happen often?” he asks Regulus.

The boy shrugs. “Not really. Not around me. I think it was just a lot to take in, and Uncle Cygnus died last week, and the idea of being married probably scares her.”

“Why?” Lucius wants to know. “I won't hurt her or try to control her. I want her to be happy.”

Regulus nods wisely. “And she knows that. Sometimes bad things happen to people though and they feel afraid afterwards, even if that bad thing isn't happening anymore. Sirius wrote to me,” he adds. “He’s staying with the Potters. Dorea Potter was a Black. Anyway, he says she's the nicest woman he's ever met, but sometimes when he does something mother wouldn't have liked he freezes and panics and expects Mrs. Potter to curse him. I think it's like that with Narcissa and you.”

Lucius looks at him. “How did you get so smart?”

“I’m the youngest,” Regulus explains. “Everyone else was all grown up, and they forgot I wasn't.”

“Do you feel like Sirius feels around Mrs. Potter when you're with me and Narcissa?” Lucius inquires.

Regulus nods. “A little. Only when I get excited and forget my manners though. Mother was too busy fighting with Sirius most of the time to punish me for everything I did wrong, so she only hurt me if I really messed up.”

“I won't hurt you, and neither will Narcissa. No matter how badly you mess up,” Lucius assures him.

“I know,” the boy says. “It's just that, even though I know that, I keep expecting something bad to happen. Sirius says that it really hurts Mrs. Potter’s feelings when he flinches or won't hug her, but he can't make himself not do that because if he ever did relax and she hit him or cursed him it would hurt even more because he trusted her.”

“But she won't hurt him,” Lucius argues.

“But she could,” Regulus insists. “And it'll hurt less if he expects it.”

This doesn't make sense to Lucius, but he quits arguing. “Do you think that feeling will ever go away?”

Regulus shrugs. “I hope so.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	7. September 1st

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You get to meet Sirius! I'm excited. Hope you enjoy! Thank you to everyone who has commented or left kudos! It makes me smile.

Narcissa makes no mention of her previous distress, so Lucius doesn't either. They fix the Quidditch Pitch first, so Regulus has something to do while they make repairs to Malfoy Manor. There's a month and a half before the school year starts, and Lucius is determined to have made a significant amount of progress before then. Regulus has friends over, several of whom have nannies, so the Quidditch Pitch is not unsupervised. Narcissa is working on making Regulus’s bedroom habitable, and Lucius is at work on the outer wards. 

It's a difficult task. The Manor was last inhabited in the 18th century, and without a continued family presence the wards had decayed quickly. He has already established the thinnest possible layer of everything important, from a Muggle repelling charm, to standard privacy wards, to wards that required you to either be keyed into them or enter through the front gate. Now all that was left to do was thickening them by pouring power into them, and possibly adding more complicated and malicious defenses. He decides to take a break for a snack. His magic is as exhausted as he's willing to allow it to get, and he could use a cup of tea. There's also cookies, to his delight. Narcissa is a talented baker and a passable chef. He'd taken one bite of a cookie and begged her to teach him. 

He takes a cup of tea and two cookies up to her. Regulus’s room is almost done. She's just putting the finishing touches on some of the furniture. “How's it going?” he inquires. 

“Very green,” she replies, which is fair. 

Regulus will be thrilled. Narcissa has chosen a light wood for the furniture and accents, which balances out when combined with the color of the walls. One of the posters scowls at them. A glint of gold catches his eye. “A snitch?” he asks.

She nods. “It's charmed to move around. I thought he might like it. It's probably childish,” she looks embarrassed.

“I would have loved it at his age,” Lucius tells her. “I'd love it now, honestly.”

She smiles hopefully. “You think? I just feel like I took him away from his parents because I thought I could take better care of him but now he sleeps on my floor and basically lives off of toast.”

“He's a lot happier,” Lucius assures her. “We talked about it. He says he's only afraid now because he thinks something bad will happen to wreck this.”

“It won't,” Narcissa says fiercely. “I won't let anything bad happen to him. He's suffered enough.”

“So have you,” he tells her. “Which I wanted to talk about. Do you want your own room? I can sleep in one of the bedrooms by Regulus's or in a guest room downstairs if it would make you more comfortable. You can ward and curse your room. We also don't have to do anything. And I mean that.”

He thinks he probably looks as uncomfortable as she does. “Thank you,” she says finally. “I...thank you.”

They sit in silence, munching cookies. “Can I have a dragon on my wall?” he asks.

He's rewarded with a weak smile. “I can probably manage that.”

Lucius picks the room furthest from the master bedroom, all the way at the end of the hall. It's on the corner, so there's four windows instead of two. He tells Narcissa what he wants, and she makes it a reality. “Don't tell Regulus, but I like your green better,” Narcissa tells him.

Lucius has picked a sage color for the walls, and white for his furniture. It looks very clean. He insists on gauzy curtains and a very light, silky bed canopy. Then he opens all of the windows and watches everything blow around. Narcissa is carefully painting the dragon he'd asked for. It's a Norwegian Ridgeback about the size of his palm, and it breathes fire. She adds a forest and some mountains above the dresser. “Thank you,” he murmurs. “This is perfect.”

“The forest is a self-sustaining ecosystem,” she says, sounding pleased. “It doesn't look like much now, but with a bit of time it’ll spread. Eventually this whole room will turn into a world of its own.”

“Can I hug you?” he asks. 

This time she says yes.

\-------

The Manor is habitable by the time September 1st rolls around. Narcissa had taken to devoting every third day to her jewelry, and the rest of the time either threatening Ministry officials or doing paperwork. Lucius isn’t sure which she enjoys more. He had talked his father into signing the Malfoy Trading Corporation over to him, with the promise of an allowance to sustain a luxurious, though slightly more conservative lifestyle than the old man was accustomed to. There had been some very illegal potions involved in this persuasion, and Lucius found himself incredibly busy.

So busy, in fact, that he hadn’t realized that it was September 1st until Regulus races into his office. “What are you doing?” the boy demands. “We’re going to be late! What if I miss the train? What if they kick me out before I even get there?”

Lucius blinks at him, then at the letter from the company’s lawyer regarding a (miraculously) unfounded lawsuit against the company. “What time is it?”

“Ten!” Regulus wails, and zooms away.

He almost knocks Narcissa over in his haste to leave. “Easy there,” she grabs his shoulder, steadying herself. “Are you packed?”

He nods vigorously, so she releases him to continue his mad dash about the manor.

Lucius sighs, looking forlornly at the five empty tea cups on his desk. “I remember when I was that excited about classes starting,” Narcissa remarks, settling precariously on the arm of a chair. The seat was covered in a mound of papers. 

“Because you’re so ancient, at the ripe old age of seventeen?” Lucius teases.

He’s treated to a smile that fades into a look of worry. “Did you sleep?” she asks.

Lucius opens his mouth to lie, but closes it when she raises an eyebrow. “I might have dozed off at some point?” he offers weakly.

Narcissa is not impressed. “I’ll make coffee. I already fed Regulus and he doesn’t need caffeine.”

“The enviable energy of youth,” Lucius stands, and winces. 

She actually rolls her eyes. “Going to be alright there, old man?”

He trails after her as she heads for the kitchen. “Just you wait, young lady,” he tells her primly. “When you’re my age you’ll know what I’m feeling.”

The kitchen is a warm butter yellow, with white quartz countertops Narcissa insists are the secret to excellent food. Evidently quartz holds magic well, and it develops a sort of muscle memory if it’s used for the same purpose repeatedly. Narcissa has a lot of ideas Lucius isn’t sure are provable. She refuses to have an argument in the same place twice on the grounds that it will attach a bad feeling to the place. She also won’t allow Ministry officials or any of the Dark Lord’s followers onto the property, insisting that they’ll contaminate it. 

He doesn’t realize he’s spaced out until she waves a cup of coffee literally under his nose. “Good morning,” she says when his eyes focus.

“Right. Thank you,” Lucius chugs the cup of coffee which is really a waste, because Narcissa makes excellent coffee. 

She ducks under his arm and leans into his side. “You’re allowed to take a break every now and then,” she tells his armpit.

“You don’t,” he points out.

“I haven’t pulled an all-nighter since OWLs,” she informs him primly.

“Can I touch you?” Lucius asks, wrapping his arms around her when he receives confirmation. “I meant to get some sleep. I just lost track of time.”

She looks up at him and wrinkles her nose. “You’ve got coffee breath. Also, I’ll send you a Howler every night to remind you to sleep if I have to.”

He gives her a squeeze. “I’m going to miss you.”

“I’ll be home most weekends,” she assures him. “I can’t run everything from my dorm.”

Regulus bounds in. “Gross,” he informs them. “Also, it’s 10:30. Can we go? What if I’m sorted into Gryffindor? Or Hufflepuff? What if all of the professors hate me? Or everyone knows mother is mad? Or about father’s gambling? Or I’m bad at everything? What if I can’t make friends? What if I’m a Squib?”

Lucius lets Narcissa go so she can face Regulus, eyes serious. “Toujours pur,” she says. “Does not just apply to our blood. It applies to us in our entirety. No one can take that from you. You’re a Black, no matter what happens, and that’s something to be proud of. It doesn’t matter what House you’re in, or what anyone thinks.”

Regulus is probably trying to look brave when he repeats, “Toujours pur.”

“Remember that. If anyone bothers you, let me know. I’ll take care of them,” she says, then looks at Lucius. “Any start of the year wisdom from you?” she wants to know.

“Don’t skip breakfast, it’s the most important meal of the day. And if you’re going to break the rules, break them well enough that you don’t get caught,” Lucius says, feeling incredibly inadequate. He was so not ready for parenthood.

“You already know all of the pureblood boys in your year,” Narcissa adds. “But don’t be afraid to befriend half-bloods or Muggle-borns.”

Regulus looks briefly scandalized. “Muggle-borns?”

“They’re wizards too,” Narcissa points out. “And they often have a fascinating view of magic since they weren’t raised with it. Now, we really will be late if we don’t leave soon, and then you’ll miss the candy trolley.”

They collect their trunks and Apparate onto Platform 9 ¾. Regulus does his best to look regal when he hugs Lucius, and then Narcissa even though she points out that they’ll see each other on a daily basis. He catches sight of a boy he knows, Nott maybe? Lucius isn’t sure, but Regulus hurries off to join him in his search for a compartment. 

“So this is the famous Hogwarts Express,” Lucius remarks, eyeing the engine’s startling shade of scarlet. 

“Not as impressive as you’d hoped?” Narcissa asks. 

He shakes his head. “It’s beautiful. I just can’t imagine convincing a hundred eleven year olds to behave for an entire day’s train ride.”

“I’m convinced there’s sedatives in the candy the trolley lady sells,” she shrugs. “It’s the only way.”

Lucius laughs at that. “You have such faith.”

She smiles up at him. “Oh, hush. You should visit for a weekend at Hogsmeade. I’ll sneak you into the castle and give you a tour. We could go to Madam Puddifoot’s too.”

He’s instantly suspicious of the gleam in her eyes. “Madam what’s?”

She kisses him instead of answering, and Lucius hears a camera flash. He finds that he doesn’t really care. They only break apart when someone clears their throat. “Am I interrupting?”

Lucius looks at...well, at an older copy of Regulus. Narcissa straightens her blouse. “Hello, little cousin. How did OWLs treat you?”

This is Sirius Black, Lucius thinks. A year younger than Narcissa, and disowned for refusing to take the Mark when he turned fifteen. He looks haughty, but eyes Lucius with interest. “This is your new pet? What happened with Evan? Don’t tell me he’s actually faithful to Antonia.”

“Irreconcilable differences, I’m afraid,” Narcissa says smoothly. “And may I present Lucius Malfoy, my fiancé.”

“He’s French,” Sirius comments. “Nice one, Ciss. Is your mother proud?”

“He’s very wealthy,” she says, tone bored. “Mother is thrilled.” 

“I think I read about that in the papers. Right next to the death notice for Uncle Cygnus. It’s a shame about him, really. I heard he died quickly,” Sirius bares his teeth in an approximation of a smile.

“Oh, now Sirius. You know Bella and I. We’re quite efficient,” Narcissa shows her teeth in return. “Run along now, little cousin. Your pet werewolf looks lost without you.”

Sirius tilts his head toward her, and gives Lucius a slight nod. Lucius watches him saunter away, toward a scarred boy in a shabby sweater. The boy lights up when Sirius reaches him. “That was odd,” Lucius says. “Right?”

Narcissa shrugs. “Sirius was raised as the heir.”

Like that explains it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a great day!


	8. House Elves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost forgot to post this update. I was editing a paper for one of my classes and went wait, hold on. There's something more enjoyable I could be agonizing over. Anyway, enjoy!

The Manor feels incredibly empty without Narcissa and Regulus. That's the first thing Lucius notices when he arrives home from the train station. The next thing he notices is the house elf rummaging through the kitchen cabinets. “Um,” he says.

It jumps, and spins around to face him. “Hello! I’m Lanksy.”

“I’m Lucius,” he says. “It’s nice to meet you.”

The creature squeaks. “A polite one! I like that.”

Lucius isn’t sure how to reply to that. “Can I help you with anything?” he asks instead.

Lanksy is obviously bonded to a well-off family. She’s wearing a neat uniform fashioned out of what appears to be towels, and her hair is neatly groomed. He’d been unfortunate enough to encounter Kreacher several weeks before, and the difference between the malnourished and mistreated Black house elf and this one was stunning. “Yes, sir! Lanksy’s family doesn’t need any more house elves, but Lanksy’s daughter needs work. Lanksy has been trying to find her a good place.”

“You think here is a good place?” Lucius asks, skeptical. 

The Manor is habitable, but he’s not sure he’d go so far as to call it good. “Lanksy will see,” the elf says critically. “Is you interested in a house elf?”

“Yes, absolutely,” he tells her. “Would you like a tour of the house or grounds?”

“Lanksy is already been seeing everything,” Lanksy is also all business. “Tell Lanksy about your family.”

“Well,” says Lucius. “You’ve met me. My fiancee is in her seventh year at Hogwarts. We’re to be married when she graduates. Her younger cousin is also staying with us. He’s starting his first year.”

“Plans for children of your own?” the creature asks.

Lucius shakes his head. “Not at the moment.”

“You is a pureblood wizard though, yes?” she wants to know.

“Yes,” he replies. “But the Healers say it would be difficult for my fiancee to have child and her health is more important to me than an heir.”

The house elf hops onto the counter so she can peer more closely at him. “You is meaning that.”

He nods, unsure. “I do.”

“Mipsy!” she calls.

Another house elf appears, this one less wrinkly. “Mipsy is here!” it says. “Is this the place? What is the family being like? Is they nice? Is there a garden? Is the countertops quartz?”

“This is Lucius,” Lanksy says. “He is having a fiancee, but she is at Hogwarts. The fiancee is having a younger cousin that lives with them. He is at Hogwarts too. There’s space for a garden but it is not being planted this past summer. The countertops is perfect.”

Mipsy appears enthralled with the countertops. “They is so white! And new!”

“My fiancee was very insistent that they be quartz,” Lucius offers. “She says it’s the best for cooking.”

Lanksy nods in approval. “Why is the garden not being planted?”

“We moved in very recently. This is my family’s ancestral home, but it stood empty for almost two hundred years. We’ve been making repairs to it,” Lucius has never felt so judged by something so small. 

Mipsy blinks luminous green eyes at him. “It is being beautiful. You is doing a really good job.”

“It’s mostly Narcissa,” Lucius tells her. “I’m rubbish at physical magic. She’s done this all herself.”

“What’s the point of you then?” Mipsy wants to know.

Lanksy whacks her half-heartedly. “Narcissa Black?” she wants to know.

“Um,” says Lucius, looking between them. What was the point of him? “Yes, Narcissa Black.”

“Lanksy isn’t liking the Blacks,” says Lanksy. “The way Lady Black is treating Kreacher is a disgrace.”

Lucius nods. “It is. Narcissa isn’t like that though. She’s the one that got Walburga admitted to St. Mungo’s, where she can’t hurt anyone.”

“Mipsy is liking this place,” Mipsy says. “Mipsy could stay for a trial period?” she asks her mother.

Lanksy eyes Lucius. “If one hair is harmed on Lanksy’s daughter’s head you will be regretting being born,” she informs him, and disappears with a startlingly loud crack.

Mipsy blinks at him expectantly. “What is Mipsy’s duties being here?”

Lucius wished desperately that Narcissa were there. “General cleaning and upkeep? Maybe cooking? I’ve never had a house elf.”

Mipsy sits down, patting the ground. “Sit, Mr. Lucius. Mipsy will tell you.”

He sits. “I hate grocery shopping. Can you grocery shop?”

“If you is giving Mipsy money and a list, yes. House elves be doing everything though, Mr. Lucius. We is being cleaning, cooking, shopping, gardening, and watching the children.”

“Cleaning would be great,” Lucius tells her. “And I’m not much of a cook. I can give you money and you can buy whatever you like to make? I’ll eat anything. I don’t know anything about gardening and there’s no children to watch. Narcissa will be here Friday night or Saturday I would guess. She’ll know much more than me.”

Mipsy looks excited. “Mipsy can cook and buy what Mipsy chooses?”

Lucius shrugs. “Yeah. I can show you your living space if you want? Narcissa and I repaired and cleaned it, but we haven’t furnished it yet so if you stay on I can give you money to buy whatever you’d like.”

“Can Mipsy’s mother be visiting when she wants to be visting?” Mipsy asks as she hops up.

Lucius makes his way to his feet much more slowly. “Lanksy is welcome here whenever she would like.”

He shows Mipsy the servants’ wing. She’s thrilled even though it’s just a collection of empty, whitewashed rooms. He gives her ten Galleons for grocery shopping and Conjures furniture with the promise of money to buy something more permanent if she stays. “What time is Mr. Lucius wanting meals?”

“I’m not sure about breakfast, just whenever I’m awake I guess? Lunch around noon or one? And dinner at about six? Whenever works with you,” he says.

Mipsy wrings her ears. “You is useless.”

“I know,” Lucius sighs. “Oh! Wait. Narcissa’s workshop has some cursed items in it and I’m not sure what she keeps in her office, so be careful while you’re cleaning?”

“Mipsy will be very careful, Mr. Lucius,” she assures him.

“Right,” he says. “I’m going to take a nap. Let me know if you need anything.”

\-------

When Lucius wakes up there’s a tray of sandwiches and a pot of tea sitting on his bedside table. He stares at it for a moment, disoriented. “I love house elves,” he decides. 

There’s excited squeaking from the hallway, followed by Mipsy making a shushing noise. Lucius sits up. “Mipsy?” he asks.

She pops into appearance next to his bed. “Mipsy is sorry, Mr. Lucius. She is having her family over to show them the place and see what they is thinking.”

“That’s fine, Mipsy. If they have any suggestions for improvements I’d be happy to hear them. I don’t know anything about—,” 

“Anything,” Mipsy finishes for him. “Mipsy knows and will ask her family.”

“I’m really good at wards and decent at paperwork,” Lucius mutters to himself after she disappears. “People are afraid of me. I’m a very powerful man.”

He carries the remaining sandwiches and tea into his office, settling in for a long several hours of dealing with the most recent lawsuit. Mipsy appears periodically with more tea and snacks. The third time she does this she says, “There is an owl being from a Mr. Edgelock for you,” she hands him a letter and disappears again.

Mr. Edgelock is the Malfoy Trading Corporation’s lawyer. He was in Lucius’s class at law school, and is infinitely smug that he graduated and Lucius did not. He would also like to meet as soon as possible. Lucius swears. This means he has to put on pants, and that the cookies Mipsy brought will no longer be warm by the time he’s done. He stuffs an entire cookie in his mouth and goes to get dressed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday!


	9. Making Something of Nothing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone! Thank you to everyone reading this, and everyone who has left kudos or commented. You all make my day. I have some free time this weekend, and might do a bonus update if I end up getting a lot of work done on this story. I've written through chapter 15, and have most of it outlined. Hope you have an awesome day!

Once decent, he Apparates directly into the lobby of Edgelock and Buttles, Attorneys at Law. The secretary, a bored-looking brunette, does not look up from filing her nails. “I’m here to see Edgelock,” he says. 

She waves him past. 

“Lucius! Old friend!” Edgelock exclaims happily. 

He’s round, already balding, and always cheerful. “Hello, Matthew,” Lucius sighs. “What was so urgent?”

Edgelock presents a piece of paper. “You’re not actually guilty of, or responsible for, what you’re being sued over this time,” he says.

“I know,” says Lucius.

He thinks Edgelock’s office has gotten more distasteful since the last time he was here. It’s the new rug. It’s orange. “I just got out of court not ten minutes ago. Now, the judge was just as surprised as I was that the case was baseless, but when I explained everything to her she tossed the suit instantly. Do you want to sue for slander? They were accusing the company of some pretty nasty stuff.”

“Are you going to charge me more money if we counter sue?” Lucius wants to know.

Edgelock waves his hand. “My dear old friend, you are so cynical! Our firm will, of course take a percentage of the winnings from the suit.”

“Your going rate is fifteen percent, correct?” Lucius inquires, knowing it’s actually twenty but hoping Edgelock won’t argue. If he agrees to fifteen percent it’s magically binding. 

The smaller man has the nerve to waggle his finger at Lucius. “You are so funny, with your grade school tricks! It is twenty percent.”

Lucius sighs. “Feel free to sue. We could use some good publicity.”

\-------

The rest of the week passes in a blur, punctuated by three letters from Regulus and one from Narcissa. The letters from Regulus are written as haphazardly as the boy talks. Lucius has to reread them twice to get the gist of it. He was sorted into Slytherin, Quidditch was not for first year students and the current Seeker was only a fifth year which meant Regulus likely wouldn’t make first string for ages, and Narcissa had gotten into a fight with Albus Dumbledore in the middle of the Great Hall. Lucius frowns down at Regulus’s words. It was wicked the boy said. Narcissa’s letter was even less informative. 

_My darling Lucius,_

_Regulus was sorted into Slytherin. He promised to write you with the news himself, but I fear he might have become distracted while ranting about Quidditch and forgotten to mention it. I’m quite proud of him and the way he has been conducting himself. I think you have been a steadying influence in his life, for which I am grateful. I am well. My classmates have not seen fit to comment on my family’s affairs, and they have all been respectful of Regulus. I would tolerate nothing less, nor would Sirius for all he pretends to have forsaken us._

_As I’m sure you will have heard, I had a disagreement with the Headmaster. He suspects me of being one of the Dark Lord’s followers. He is incorrect. I’m sure the story made it into the papers. It might even be an accurate retelling of the disagreement. Do not reply to this letter, as I fear the post is being monitored._

_All my love,  
Narcissa_

True to her word, there is an article about her exchange with Dumbledore in the Daily Prophet. Lucius didn’t know much about Dumbledore beyond what was on a Chocolate Frog card, but he did remember Narcissa telling Regulus to never meet the man’s eyes, or accept candy from him. She had given the boy an incredibly long lecture on all of the professors, most of the upper year students, and also taught him numerous spells she thought might be useful. Lucius had learned almost as much as Regulus had, from how to detect a drug in a drink to what Lily Evans’ favorite flower was, and exactly what to say to Professor McGonagall in any given situation.

The article in the Prophet was far more informative than Narcissa had been, though, he suspected, everything had been sensationalized. 

**Death Eaters at Hogwarts? The Black Family Involved?**

_Many of you, dear readers, are familiar with Miss Narcissa Black. She is as common of a sight around the Ministry and at exclusive pureblood gatherings as her name is in the papers with her recent and scandalous engagement to Lucius Malfoy and the death of her father, Mr. Cygnus Black. Miss Black, only 17 and just beginning her final year at Hogwarts, has reportedly spent her summer wrestling control of the Black family from her uncle, the Lord Orion Black. It is speculated that Lord Black’s move to India, apparently to keep a closer eye on the family’s tea empire, is more of an exile. We have been unable to confirm whether he arrived in the country, however._

_With Lady Walburga Black institutionalized and Miss Black’s mother, Druella Black (nee Rosier) living in southern Spain now for her health, Miss Black has succeeded in becoming the head of the Black family in everything but title. Regulus Black, the family’s heir, is only 11 and unlikely to become a threat to Miss Black’s power for several years, if ever. Sources tell us Miss Black is his primary caretaker, now that the young boy’s parents are out of the picture, and that the two are fond of each other. It is no wonder, then, that this remarkable young witch was willing to stand up to Hogwarts Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore._

_Dumbledore apparently approached Miss Black during supper several days into the term, asking to speak with her in private. Miss Black, surrounded by upper year Slytherin students, inquired as to why. Dumbledore expressed his concern about the recent death of her father and her care of Regulus, who, along with his peers, was nearby. Miss Black assured him that she and the Black heir were both well, thanked him for his concern, but declined to speak with him privately. When Dumbledore insisted, Heir Black also added his own assurances of his and Miss Black’s wellbeing._

_What happened next will shock you, dear readers. Dumbledore grabbed Miss Black’s arm, and attempted to roll her left sleeve up. Miss Black reacted violently, nonverbally throwing the Headmaster nearly a dozen feet away from her. She stood up, walked to where Dumbledore lay, placed a foot on his chest, and pointed her wand down at him. “Do you think, sir, that I am a Death Eater?” she asked him loudly._

_Death Eaters are the name given to the followers of a man styling himself the next Dark Lord. Lady Bellatrix Lestrange (nee Black), Miss Black’s eldest sister, is a well known supporter of this man, who calls himself Lord Voldemort. Miss Black showed Dumbledore, and then the rest of the students, her bare left arm. It is thought that a Death Eater bears a mark of some sort in this location. “I am not,” Miss Black proclaimed to the room at large, which had grown silent soon after the exchange began. Then, leaning closer to Dumbledore Miss Black softly said, “You should be worried, old man, but not about me. Not yet.”_

_What does Miss Black’s ominous statement mean? Are there Death Eaters at Hogwarts? What, exactly are our children being exposed to? Should the Ministry be directing funds to stopping this Lord Voldemort, if Dumbledore thinks he is threatening enough to warrant assaulting a member of the Black family? I don’t know, dear readers, but I suspect we will soon find out._

“Trust the Prophet to write an article about nothing as if it were something,” Narcissa says, appearing next to him.

“Are you back for the weekend?” Lucius inquires hopefully. “The house is too quiet without you.”

“I’m heading back Sunday morning. I have a ridiculous amount of translating to do for Ancient Runes, but Lady Longbottom wants a pair of earrings that can deflect stunning spells for her son’s girlfriend. Frank graduated last year, but Alice is in my year. She wants to be an Auror,” Narcissa explains. “And I need Lord Longbottom to vote my way at the next Wizengamot meeting” 

“You don’t have enough votes all by yourself?” teases Lucius. 

She swats at him. “I’ve only got nine, now that Bella signed over hers and the ones the Lestrange brothers forfeited. You need at least 51 to get any sort of legislation passed.”

“What are you so invested in that you’re sucking up to the Longbottoms?” he wants to know.

“The Wizengamot is trying to decide whether to increase the number of Aurors in response to Voldemort. If they do it will cause widespread panic. England hasn’t had its own Dark Lord in living memory,” she rolls her eyes.

“Is this Voldemort really going to be the next Dark Lord?” Lucius asks.

She shrugs. “Bella thinks so. I think he’s building himself up more as a terrorist than anything else though. He’s mostly stuck to Muggles so far, so the Wizengamot is hesitant to put funds towards the Aurors that they could be lining their pockets with.”

“You support the increase?” Lucius is surprised, and trails after Narcissa into the kitchen.

“I’ve met Voldemort,” she says cryptically, and then Mipsy appears with a pop.

“Miss Narcissa!” she exclaims. “You is home! Mipsy is so relieved. Mr. Lucius is knowing nothing. Not a thing!”

Narcissa jumps slightly at Mipsy’s initial appearance. When she recovers, she smiles at Mipsy. “Mr. Lucius has never had a house elf before, Mipsy. We must be patient with him.”

Lucius sighs, but can’t argue with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	10. Avis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy! The plot is going to start picking up soon, and I'm having a good time working on this story. Thanks to everyone reading, leaving kudos, and commenting! You're all the best.

“Yes, Miss Narcissa. Mipsy and Mipsy’s mother wants to be meeting Miss Narcissa before they made any decisions,” the elf explains. “Lanksy not be liking the way Lady Black is treating poor Kreacher. Mipsy neither.” 

Narcissa raises an eyebrow at the tiny green creature. “You’re a bold one. What family is your mother bonded to?”

“She is being bonded to the Potters, Miss Narcissa. Charlus and Dorea,” answers Mipsy.

“Do you know Sirius Black, then?” Narcissa inquires, brightening slightly.

“Yes, Miss Narcissa. He is being friends with young Master James,” Mipsy begins to make tea, while Lucius and Narcissa settle into stools at the island.

“Is he well? Do Charlus and Dorea treat him kindly?” Narcissa wants to know.

Mipsy blinks her inscrutable lime green eyes at her. “Why is you caring, miss? You is not being family.”

“Blood is blood,” Narcissa tells the elf. “And I am not my aunt.”

Mipsy nods in agreement. “No miss, you is not. Lanksy!”

Lanksy appears with another startlingly loud crack. “What is you needing, Mipsy?” then, “Miss Narcissa! You is home.”

“I is wanting to be bonding myself to them,” Mipsy declares. “Miss Narcissa is not being Lady Black. She is saying so.”

The two elves lock eyes, and appear to have some sort of silent conversation. All Lucius knows is that involves a lot of ear twitching. “We is needing some of your blood, Mr. Lucius,” Lanksy finally says. 

Narcissa says, “Take mine instead,” before he can argue that he is, in fact, very attached to all of his blood right where it is.

Lanksy frowns. “That is being very uncommon, Miss Narcissa. Usually we is binding ourselves to the head of a household.”

“That’s Narcissa though, isn’t it?” Lucius interjects. “Our marriage contract is drawn up so we’re equal in the relationship, but when it comes down to it she’s a noble and I’m not.”

Narcissa smiles pleasantly, adding, “I’m a very uncommon kind of witch, Lanksy.”

They proceed with the binding. Mipsy collects a vial of Narcissa’s blood which is, as Lanksy explains it, insurance. Lucius is very glad they’re not using his blood when she says, “All sorts of bad magics is being worked with blood if need is being.”

Then Narcissa kneels, and she and Mipsy clasp hands. The following vows, of service, discretion, and loyalty on Mipsy’s part and of protection and fairness on Narcissa’s, leave no room for loopholes or interpretation. Lucius is impressed, watching strands of silver and lime colored magic wind between the witch and elf with every word.

Binding complete, the magic dissipates into sparks and then vanishes. Lanksy bows to Lucius and Narcissa, then hugs her daughter. “Be visiting, Mipsy. And taking care of yourself.” 

The older elf disappears with a crack. 

\-------

Later that night, Lucius is slumped on the floor of Narcissa’s workroom, eating macaroni and cheese and watching her work. “You’re beautiful,” he informs her.

She had changed into soft flannel pajamas shortly after Mipsy had decided she wanted to bind herself to them. They’re red and green and clash horribly with her skin tone. Her hair is drawn up in a severe bun, and her face is damp with sweat as she sinks runes into a delicate pair of silver earrings. She looks up from her project long enough to give him a doubtful look, and then returns to her project. “I think Mipsy must have put something in your food,” she mutters. “This is not my best look.”

“Everything is your best look,” Lucius argues. 

She draws a silvery rune in the air and waves it toward him instead of forcing it onto the earrings. Too surprised to be concerned by the symbol, it sinks into his skin before he thinks to dodge. He finds himself wracked with giggles. He claps both hands over his mouth in an attempt to stifle them, nearly spilling his macaroni while she abandons the earrings and strides over to him. Crouching, she archly asks, “Is there something you find amusing, Lucius?”

She can’t keep a straight face though, and grins. With a grasping motion, she pulls the rune off of him and lets it dissipate like smoke. He stops giggling, but grins back at her. “You’re a menace” he decides. 

“A brilliant one,” she agrees. “But I need you to test that.”

She stands up and puts the earrings on. “Stun me.”

“Are my looks and charming personality not enough?” he quips, but does as directed. “Stupefy.”

The earrings absorb the beam of red light. “Again,” Narcissa says.

Lucius loses count of how many stunning spells he casts, but eventually Narcissa is satisfied. “Tested up to twenty Stunners, one right after the other,” she murmurs while scribbling on a piece of paper. “Only good for absorbing standard stunning spells. Resistant to Summoning.”

“What happens to the power from the spells?” Lucius asks.

She places the earrings into a small paper envelope. “It supercharges the runes. I’m sure you’re familiar with magical artefacts that become more powerful the more they’re used.”

Lucius is. “Most of the objects I deal with are like that. I had an opal necklace try to strangle me a few years ago. It fed on souls, like a Dementor. Another few victims and it might have had me too.”

Narcissa makes a face. “Soul magic is distasteful.”

“It really is,” he agrees, then, “What are you up to for the rest of the night?”

It’s not quite nine yet. Lucius had no plans. He had almost gotten the Malfoy Trading Corporation to the point that all he had to do was spend the day writing and responding to letters, interspersed with face-to-face meetings when someone was too important to simply owl, and had given himself the weekend off as a reward. 

“I’ve about had it with runes for the day, and I’m saving politics for tomorrow when I meet Lady Longbottom for tea to give her the earrings, so I thought I might just lay in bed and catch up on some reading for Charms,” she replies. “You’re welcome to join me if you stay on your half of the bed.”

“I can manage that,” he says, which is how he ends up with Narcissa’s icy feet wedged under his legs and a stack of notes balanced precariously on his blanket-covered torso.

Narcissa’s room is cozy, full of soft colors and softer surfaces. The carpet is beige and plush. One entire wall is made of windows that look down onto the flower garden, and there’s a comfortable looking couch in the corner. The stack of books and magazines on the table next to it range in topic from Muggle fiction to Witch Weekly to a complete history of Wizarding British politics. She has roughly a million blankets on the bed, no less than three of which are fuzzy.

“Do you want something to read?” Narcissa asks, frowning at a complicated diagram. “I’m kind of boring.”

“You hold almost ten percent of the legislative power in England,” Lucius tells her. “And you do active rune magic, which is amazing. You couldn’t be boring if you tried.”

“If only I could do NEWT level Charms as well as I can do all of that,” she says, looking frustrated. 

Lucius peers at the page her textbook is open to. “I haven’t used the Avis charm since my NEWTs,” he confesses.

“Exactly! Why would I ever need to Conjure a flock of birds? There are real ones everywhere outside,” she complains.

“You never struggled with anything you did over the summer,” Lucius says. “What are you hung up on about this?”

She scowls at him. “I can do almost anything if I’ve got a material to start with in front of me. Something from nothing though? I can barely cast Aguamenti let alone produce an entire live bird.”

“Why did you take Charms then?” Lucius wants to know. “Most of the upper level stuff is all Conjuring or expanding the reach and impact of more basic charms.”

Narcissa flops angrily into her pillow. “I know! Everyone told me, Narcissa don’t take Charms! You’re just going to be a housewife. You’ll be rich enough to pay someone to cast charms for you! It’s nothing you’ll ever need to know, sweetheart,” she spits the last word. 

Lucius was starting to get the feeling that this was a touchy subject for her. “What other classes are you taking?”

“Other than Charms I’m taking Transfiguration, Potions, Herbology, History of Magic, Ancient Runes, and Defense Against the Dark Arts,” she rattles off. 

“That’s a ridiculous amount of work,” Lucius tells her. “You should drop out and focus on eating cookies and casting Warming Charms on your feet.”

This gets her to smile. “They’re not that cold,” she protests.

“I can’t hear you over how much of the feeling I’ve lost in my legs,” he says, turning away dramatically.

She discards the Charms textbook and cuddles into his side. The rest of her is not much warmer than her feet, and her hands, which she gleefully puts on his stomach, are actually colder. He carefully sets her notes on the floor and wraps an arm around her. “Is this okay?” he asks.

“Yeah,” she says. “But only until I’ve stolen all of your body heat.”

“It’s only right,” he agrees. “You’ve already stolen my heart.”

She elbows him. “You’re the ridiculous one.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a good rest of your day!


	11. Cursed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone! Hope you're all doing good. I'm posting this week's update and also next week's update because I'll be traveling.

He must have dozed off because he wakes up to birds chirping. It’s still dark outside though. Lucius blinks, looking around sleepily. Whirling around the candlelit room is a flock of sparrows. “You did it!” he tells Narcissa, voice rough with sleep. 

“I Transfigured dust motes,” she informs him grimly. “But I don’t think that’ll work in the actual exam.”

“You kind of did it?” he offers.

The sparrows vanish, dust once more. “I’m never going to get this,” Narcissa says, and buries her face in his shoulder.

“It’s the first week of classes,” he rubs her back soothingly. “You have the rest of the year to figure things out.”

“In a year Wizarding Britain will be at war,” she predicts dourly. “I should be worrying about that, not useless spells.”

“You really think it’s going to come to that?” Lucius asks.

“I know the Ministry and, to a lesser extent, Voldemort. He’s already starting to escalate from Muggles to Muggle-borns. There’s been three reported disappearances in the past month alone. Bella says that’s not even half of them. The Aurors are covering them up. The Minister is a puppet and the Wizengamot is so divided and controlled by special interests it’s barely functional,” she tells his armpit. “I owled Andromeda and told her to leave the country.”

Lucius peers at the top of her head. “There hasn’t been a British Dark Lord in over a hundred years.”

Her shoulders are shaking slightly, which probably means she’s crying. “I’m revoking your body heat privileges if you get snot on me,” he says half-heartedly.

“Can you stay tonight?” she asks.

“Of course.”

\-------

Narcissa is gone when he wakes up, and he doesn’t see her again for a month. He’s unsure if she’s embarrassed or just busy, but either way it’s enough to make Lucius almost grateful for the steady stream of meetings he attends. They get him out of the manor and interacting with people who are not two feet tall and green, though he likes Mipsy much better than the greasy foreign dignitaries and greasier businessmen he usually encounters. 

He receives and replies to frequent letters from Regulus, heeding Narcissa’s warning about the post being monitored and not putting anything remotely questionable in his letters.

Regulus was thriving though. One of the Slytherin prefects was over-seeing flying practice for the younger students, and they occasionally got to fly in their Broom Safety class. Narcissa was too distracted with her classes to lecture him when he ate three desserts and no vegetables for dinner, and he thought Adila Shafiq might have a crush on him. She’d smiled at him twice, at any rate, and sat by him in Charms. For Regulus, life was good. 

Narcissa’s letters are shorter, and very rarely contain anything of interest. She complains about Charms and the lack of coffee at Hogwarts, and occasionally asks him to suggest plants to Mipsy for the garden the elf is planning. He writes equally harmless things back. Lucius had recently made the acquaintance of a Muggle mobster in New York City named Tony, and the man spent most of their meetings complaining about his grandchildren. He left out the mobster bit, but the man’s words, that his grandchildren “lacked the sense God gave a damn cannoli” made it into the letter, as did other funny anecdotes, gossip about various businessmen, and Mipsy’s latest projects. 

Narcissa returns in mid-October, Regulus in tow, just in time to see the fall decorations Mipsy has been indulging in as of late. There are pumpkins everywhere, and in most of the food she made. Lucius is just on his way out the door when she walks in. “Hey,” he says, surprised. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“I’m not technically allowed to leave the school grounds except for Hogsmeade weekends,” she informs him. 

“”Why not?” Lucius frowns. “You’re of age.”

“It’s a stupid rule,” she shrugs tiredly.

Her hair, usually attempting to burst out of whatever she was confining it with, was lank. She was even paler than normal, and looked unhappy. “What’s wrong?” he asks.

Regulus has two black eyes and looks to be on the verge of tears, but remains quiet.

She waves a hand. “Don’t worry about it. Where were you headed?”

“Out to dinner,” he says. “That can wait though. What’s going on?”

“I want to lie down,” she says instead of answering. “I’ll tell you about it when I don’t have to be standing. Mipsy?”

Mipsy appears. “Miss Narcissa!” the elf exclaims. “And is this being Mr. Regulus? His face is being hurt.”

“Can you take care of him? Lucius and I need to talk,” Narcissa gives the boy’s shoulder a comforting squeeze. “Things will be fine,” she tells him.

Regulus follows Mipsy to the kitchen. Lucius removes his coat, and follows Narcissa up to her room. She flops onto her bed without bothering to take her shoes off, and Lucius settles on a chair. “Are you okay?”

“I’ve been cursed with some sort of nightmare spell. I haven’t been able to get rid of it or sleep more than a few hours a night,” she says. “You would think dealing with the Wizengamot would be more exhausting than dealing with teenage Death Eater wannabes.”

“What happened?” Lucius wants to know.

She sighs. “There are a lot of Voldemort’s supporters at Hogwarts. They took offense after my little display with Dumbledore, but probably wouldn’t have done anything else except I stopped them from attacking a Muggle-born student. Then my stance on the upcoming vote for Auror funding came out, and they decided I was a blood traitor.”

“So they cursed you?” he asks. “You’re one of the most powerful women in Britain.”

“I never said they were smart,” Narcissa agrees. “I’ve been making their lives unpleasant, and so has Sirius. I offered to make him a member of the family again. He agreed. Didn’t even want his votes back,” she smiles hazily, and apparently loses her train of thought.

“What happened to Regulus?” Lucius prompts.

Her eyes refocus. “The Carrow twins cornered him. Since Sirius and I are more trouble than we’re worth they went after someone who couldn’t defend themselves. They’ll think twice before they do that again.”

“Did you do anything illegal?” he inquires.

Narcissa’s smile is extremely unpleasant. “Nothing they can tell anyone about without revealing they attacked the heir of a noble family.”

Lucius sighs. “You need to see a Healer.”

She attempts to sit up, but falls over and then out of bed. From the floor, she says, “I don’t want to.”

Lucius stands up, and drags her to her feet. “Too bad,” he tells her. “You couldn’t fight a wet tissue in this state, so you can’t exactly stop me.”

“We can’t leave Regulus here alone,” she argues. “I’ll stay and watch him. You’ll have to go to the Healer without me.”

“Regulus is coming too,” he informs her.

He guides her, still protesting, down to the kitchen. Regulus is covered in bruise salve, munching on a cookie, and excitedly telling Mipsy about Quidditch. “Is Miss Narcissa being okay?” Mipsy asks, spotting Lucius.

Regulus, who is significantly less black and blue than before, echos her question. “We’re going to a Healer,” Lucius tells them. “Regulus, you’re coming too. I don’t know what’s been going on, but I want you to get checked out as well.”

“I don’t want to go to St. Mungo’s,” he says mulishly. “That’s where mother is.”

“We’re not going to St. Mungo’s,” Lucius soothes, and then there’s a knock at the door. 

Mipsy goes to answer it, and returns, followed by Sirius Black, his werewolf friend, and three people Lucius doesn’t recognize. “They just found the Carrows,” Sirius says.

“Are they alive?” Lucius asks. “She says she didn’t kill them, but she’s kind of out of it.”

Narcissa, who had been gazing dreamily at a wall, giggles. “Lucius thinks I’m mad, like Bella,” she tells Sirius conspiratorially. 

“They’re alive, but just barely,” Sirius says, ignoring Narcissa. “I told the Aurors it was me.”

“And they just nodded and let you go?” Lucius says skeptically. 

“Yeah, actually. The Carrows aren’t a noble family, and they attacked the heir of one,” Sirius nods at Regulus, who looks uncomfortable. “I was just defending my future lord from the common filth.”

“I cannot believe our justice system,” the only witch in the group, a redhead, mutters. “Not that I’m not pleased you’re not on your way to Azkaban,” she adds hastily, when Sirius raises an eyebrow.

“Do you want to stay here while I take them to a Healer?” Lucius asks the group. “Mipsy is an excellent cook and there’s plenty of space.”

Mipsy beams at the praise. “We’ll stay,” one of the boys says. “I’m James Potter, by the way.”

“It’s a pleasure,” Lucius says. “I really need to go though.”

“I’m coming with,” Sirius informs him flatly.

Lucius shrugs. “We’re going to Moscow. I have a friend from school with a practice there. She specializes in this kind of thing.”

“Death Eater curses?” the shortest of the boys asks curiously.

“Dark magic,” Lucius corrects. 

He and Sirius keep Narcissa between them, and Regulus holds tightly to Sirius’s arm. Lucius Apparates directly into the waiting room. It’s fairly bland, with blue carpet, white walls, several perpetually wilting plants, and a magazine rack. The wizard at the front desk flicks his eyes up from whatever he’s writing.

“Zia!” he calls. “Lucius is here and he has friends.”

Zia Kuznetsov materializes. She’s willowy, with dark hair, and glasses. “Lucius with friends?” she asks, smiling crookedly. “This is something I have to see.”

“I remember when you had acne and a perm,” Lucius tells her. “And a big crush on all of the Beatles.”

She sniffs. “Hurtful, Lucius. Truly. You know Ringo was my favorite. You don’t appear to be bleeding out on my carpet today though, so what can I do for you?”

He gestures at Narcissa. “This is my fiancee. She’s been cursed. The other two are her cousins, Sirius and Regulus. I’d like you to look at Regulus too.”

Zia does a diagnostic charm of some sort, and her eyebrows go up. “I want to look at Sirius as well,” she says. “Your fiancee first though.”

The man at the desk gives Lucius a stack of paperwork as Zia leads Narcissa down a hallway and into an exam room. He starts on the paperwork while Sirius paces. Regulus manages to hover anxiously while sitting. 

It takes Lucius a solid hour to get through the forms, but once he has he wishes he hadn’t. Now he’s stuck waiting with nothing to do instead of interrogating Sirius about the family’s medical history. A nurse comes to get Regulus, who returns half an hour later without the black eyes. Another Healer, Zia’s partner in the practice and occasionally romantically, from what Lucius remembers, takes Sirius to an exam room.

Apparently tiring of Lucius’s nervousness, the man behind the desk rolls his eyes. “You know Zia is the best at what she does.”

Lucius is about to reply, when Zia herself returns. Her hair is significantly frizzier than before, and she’s wobbling a little. “I want to keep her overnight for observation, but you can see her now.”

He and Regulus follow Zia back to a private room. Narcissa is sleeping peacefully, hooked up to several monitoring devices. “Is she going to be okay?” Regulus asks in a small voice. “I’ve never seen her like she was.”

“The curse, whatever it was, attacked her nervous system. The nightmares she was having were a side effect. She’s been terrified out of her mind for two weeks,” Zia explains. “It had been five days since she slept. If she were less powerful magically she would have been driven mad.”

“You didn’t recognize the curse?” Lucius asks.

Zia gives him a look. “I’m not all-knowing.”

“You’re as close as there is,” he replies, then looks at Regulus. “Was he alright?”

She grabs his arm and drags him out of the room, down the hall, and into her office. “What the hell are you doing?” she demands. “All three of those children have worse curse damage than most retired Aurors.”

“Narcissa is of age,” Lucius protests weakly.

“She’s seventeen, Lucius! She’s still in school!” Zia exclaims. “Which hasn’t slowed her down any, she’s been using Unforgivables and blood magic. Not that I blame her, if she was cursing whoever’s been abusing the lot of them. The older boy, Sirius, he’s got nerve damage from the Cruciatus curse. Did you know how long it takes before that happens? The younger one was beaten to within an inch of his life today, and judging by the scars he has, it wasn’t the first time. He’s also been starved in the past.”

Zia has her wand out, and is pointing it at him. “Their parents weren’t very nice people,” Lucius says, holding his hands up. “I had nothing to do with it.”

“If I find out any of their injuries are from you, Lucius Malfoy, I’ll turn you inside out,” Zia growls, stowing her wand. “By hand.”

Regulus chooses that moment to burst in. “Lucius hasn’t hurt any of us!” 

Zia’s eyes instantly soften when she turns to him. “I don’t think he did, but someone has. Do you want to report it to the authorities?”

Regulus shakes his head. “Narcissa got rid of them.”

She nods. “Alright, then. Can you go keep Narcissa company? She might like it if you talk to her.”

Regulus hurries back out of the room, and Zia closes the door behind him. “Not done yelling at me?” Lucius guesses.

“That depends on how you answer my next questions,” she informs him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	12. Lady Potter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you all in two weeks!

“Alright,” Lucius sighs. “Ask away.”

“Voldemort,” Zia begins, looking troubled.

“That’s not a question,” he points out.

She visibly restrains herself from snapping at him. “What are your thoughts on the man claiming to be the next Dark Lord?”

Lucius shrugs. “Narcissa thinks he’s a threat. She’s a member of the Wizengamot and has been trying to rally support for a bill that would increase defense spending.”

“I didn’t ask you what Narcissa thought,” she says, adding, “Though she sounds sensible. I certainly wasn’t at that age.”

“Me neither,” Lucius agrees. “I’m still not, honestly. I’ve met some of Voldemort’s followers though. Narcissa’s older sister is one, and I suspect that Sirius’s mother was the one that caused the nerve damage. He refused to join Voldemort’s cause and she didn’t take it well.”

Zia nods. “It would seem not.”

Lucius shrugs. She’s always had a gift for understatement. “I don’t have much information to give you, beyond that. Narcissa thinks he’s a threat, and that’s good enough for me.”

She pushes her glasses back up her nose, and changes the topic. “Do you love her?”

He shrugs again. “She’s intelligent and attractive.”

“Any answer other than a resounding ‘yes’ to that is the wrong one,” Zia informs him. “Why are you marrying her?”

“Her mother arranged it. You know, when I met her she was sitting in another man’s lap? I never expected it to go anywhere. We got coffee once, and drinks. I agreed to be her date to the British Solstice celebration, and that was the night we signed the contract. I never really thought about consequences,” he says.

“Do you ever?” Zia wants to know.

He gives her a dirty look. “Narcissa is a good person, and I like spending time with her. I’m happier than either of my parents ever were.”

“Your parents’ marriage isn’t exactly what I’d use as a standard,” she says drily. “I believe you though. I like her.”

“She’s half out of her mind,” Lucius protests. “You don’t even know her.”

“She’s half out of her mind and the only thing she was thinking about was protecting Regulus. You can tell more about someone when they’re at their worst than when they’re at their best,” Zia says. “She’s a good woman.”

“Despite the Dark magic?” he wants to know.

Her eyes narrow. “You know I’ve never liked it, and I don’t believe there’s every a reason to use an Unforgivable.”

“I don’t think she throws them around for fun,” Lucius says. “Just to protect Regulus.”

“Why does she care about him?” Zia asks. “In a few years he’ll inherit everything the papers say she’s fought so hard for.”

“Blood is blood,” he echos one of Narcissa’s favorite phrases.

Zia whacks him. “I still can’t believe you’re marrying a noble girl. From Britain, no less.”

“Have you ever been to a proper Solstice celebration?” Lucius asks. “You won’t believe what they do.”

She quirks an eyebrow. “No?”

“It involves face paint,” he says.

“Can’t they just burn some incense and say a prayer like the rest of us?” Zia wants to know. 

“No incense, no prayer. A lot of champagne and some truly excellent hors d'oeuvres though,” he offers. 

“It sounds like a disgrace to tradition,” she points out.

He shrugs. “I think, traditionally, people only had the money to burn a bit of incense and pray things got better. Narcissa throws a million Galleons around like it’s nothing, so it’s not surprising celebrations get a bit out of hand.”

Zia starts to laugh. “You’re going to be a trophy husband, but the sound of it.”

“Now all I need is to play professional Quidditch and have a father that loves me. Then all my childhood dreams will have come true,” he grins.

\-------

Lucius sends Regulus and Sirius back to the manor by Floo, instructing Sirius not to let his friends break anything. Sirius gives him a haughty look, marred somewhat by the fact that Regulus pipes up cheerfully with, “Narcissa warned him about you lot.”

He settles in to spend the night slumped in a chair by Narcissa’s hospital bed. He’s startled awake around three in the morning by the appearance of an older woman who is very clearly not a nurse. She has dark hair, shot through with silver that matches her eyes. “Hello, young man,” she says pleasantly. “My name is Dorea Potter and you have some explaining to do.”

“Mrs. Potter,” Lucius scrambles, trying to decide where he’d heard of her before. 

“Lady Potter,” the woman corrects, tilting her head much like a cat listening for a mouse.

Ah. That explained quite a bit, though he still wasn’t sure why she was here. He was reluctant to start apologizing until he knew exactly what she wanted, on the off chance there was something she didn’t know about. She was a Black by birth, and given his involvement with the family there were quite a few things she might want explained. “Lady Potter,” he repeats.

He’s rewarded with an annoyed glance. “I believe we’ve established that.”

“Right,” Lucius says. “Um.”

“My son, Mr. Malfoy,” she prompts. “He’s several inches shorter than yourself, dark hair, rather more darkly complected than either of us, I think. He is also, interestingly enough, currently missing from Hogwarts along with my nephews and several of his friends.”

“They’re staying at my home,” he says, hastening to add, “I had nothing to do with them leaving Hogwarts though.”

She raises an eyebrow, which is all of the encouragement Lucius needs to lose his resolve and tell her everything he knows.

“Narcissa showed up with Regulus light night. She looked sick and said she’d been cursed, and he’d been beaten. I was going to take them to a Healer when Sirius and the other four showed up. Sirius said he took the fall for what Narcissa did to the Carrows and that he wanted to come with us to the Healer. His friends stayed there while we came here. Zia is an old friend of mine from school, which is why we’re in Moscow and not at St. Mungo’s. Sirius and Regulus were both treated, and cleared to go home so I sent them back to the manor. Zia wanted to keep Narcissa overnight, so here we are,” he says, barely pausing to breathe. 

“They just let Sirius walk off the grounds after he confessed to beating two of his fellow students?” Lady Potter asks.

Lucius frowns at her. “He said it was fine? Since they attacked Regulus. He said he was just defending his future lord, and that the Carrows weren’t a noble family so he wasn’t in trouble.”

“Sirius was disowned,” Lady Potter says, very slowly. “Which means he doesn’t have a future lord. They should have charged him with assault at the very least.”

“Narcissa said she reinstated him into the family,” he offers. 

“But not as the heir?” she inquires.

Lucius shrugs. “She said he didn’t want his spot back.”

Lady Potter frowns down at Narcissa’s still form. “That would explain the letter then.”

“Letter?” Lucius asks, and Lady Potter hands him a folded note.

_Dear Lady Potter,_

_I am forever in your debt for taking me in after my mother disowned me, so I hope you will not think my next words presumptuous. I believe it is critical that Lord Potter vote ‘yes’ in the next Wizengamot session to the bill increasing Auror numbers and funding for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. I may no longer be the heir to the Black family, but I was raised as such and I understand the implications of what I am asking. The man calling himself Voldemort is a threat and should be treated thusly. I have never met him personally. My refusal was the cause of my disownment. Bellatrix is one of his most devoted followers, however, and I know Narcissa has met him. Incidentally, she is voting ‘yes’ as the Black family regent despite this, or, if I may be so bold, because of it._

_She asked me to write this letter, and I did because I agree with her. Please, Lady Potter. I wouldn’t ask unless it was important. Intercede with Lord Potter on behalf of this cause._

_Humbly,  
Sirius Black_

“I expect that this was Regent Black’s price for reinstating him,” Lady Potter says. “She knows my husband isn’t likely to vote her way on the Auror bill. He thinks it’s alarmist and wasteful.”

“What do you think?” Lucius asks before he can stop himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	13. Coming Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! And today is the day I post my first "what Narcissa has been up to" one-shot, which I'm going to count as next week's update, because my schedule through the rest of the semester is kind of ridiculous.

Lady Potter eyes him for a moment. “I think Charlus is a good man, but that he forgets other men aren’t.”

“You support the bill?” Narcissa’s voice is raspy and quiet.

Lucius jumps. Lady Potter merely raises an eyebrow. “Aren’t you supposed to be sedated, child? How long have you been listening?”

“I’m hardly a child, Lady Potter. Answer my question,” she commands.

It’s very hard to take her seriously when she can’t lift her head off her pillow. Lucius reaches out and grasps her hand. “I was worried about you.”

Narcissa gives his hand a weak squeeze, but does not break her staring contest with Lady Potter, who sighs. “I do. Sirius showed up in the middle of the night, covered in blood and terrified out of his mind that night his parents tried to make him take the Mark. If they’re willing to treat a pureblood child like that…” she trails off.

“He’s got Fenrir Greyback working for him, last I heard,” Lucius offers. 

Lady Potter’s expression ices over. “And how, exactly, do you know that?”

“Um,” Lucius says. “I had some business in Knockturn Alley. Old Borgin was in a bit of an uproar over it. I’m surprised the whole of London didn’t hear. I guess Voldemort wanted something and Borgin refused to give it to him, so Voldemort threatened to set Greyback on Borgin’s grandson.”

“Did he follow through with the threat?” asks Lady Potter.

Lucius shrugs. “Haven’t heard anything since.”

“So he likely did, then,” murmurs Narcissa. 

They’re all quiet for a moment. “I’ll talk to Charlus,” Lady Potter says finally. “Please make sure my son gets back to Hogwarts.”

“You can come visit us, tomorrow if you’d like,” Narcissa says. “I’ll be cleared to go home. We can discuss the vote further and you can take Heir Potter and company back to school.”

Lady Potter smiles slightly. It does nothing to make her seem less intimidating. “I’ll Floo,” she says, and Disapparates. 

\-------

Lucius watches as Zia pokes and prods at Narcissa, who tolerates it all, only raising an eyebrow when she’s instructed to open her mouth so Zia can look at her teeth. “If I wanted to be treated like a horse I would have stayed with my parents,” she informs the other witch, but opens her mouth anyway.

“You should drink less coffee,” Zia informs her. “You’ll stain your teeth.”

“Next you’ll be telling me I should get eight hours of sleep and eat well,” Narcissa says, smiling at Zia’s consternation.

“Teenagers are the worst,” she informs Lucius. “This one should make a full recovery though.”

“Thanks, Zia. Owl me the bill?” he asks.

“You know it,” she grins, pushes her glasses back up her nose, and leaves. 

Narcissa watches her go with something akin to fondness. “I like her,” she says. “She reminds me of Andromeda.”

“She’s an excellent Healer and a good friend,” Lucius agrees. “Saved my life a couple times, at least.”

“Do you think she’d like to move her practice to Britain?” Narcissa wants to know.

“Absolutely not,” Zia hollers from somewhere down the hall. “I’ll move to the United States before I set foot on your miserable island.”

Narcissa shrugs, unperturbed. “We should go home. I want to make sure the manor is still standing. Sirius and his friends are menaces.”

“And we should tell Mipsy that Lady Potter is coming, so she can prepare tea and snacks,” Lucius says.

“Lady Potter?” Narcissa inquires. 

“She said last night that she would stop by,” Lucius reminds her. 

She blinks at him. “What?”

“You don’t remember? She showed up, wanted to know where her son was, and why Sirius had written a letter asking her to talk to her husband about the Auror bill,” he says.

“I do not remember,” Narcissa sighs. “Lady Potter is my Aunt Walburga’s sister, and twice as dangerous, if only because she’s still sane. We definitely need to go.”

“She looks like a Black though,” Lucius says, helping her up. 

“She is,” Narcissa tells him. “She and Walburga are first cousins with my father and Uncle Orion.”

“Gross,” Lucius says. “I forgot about that.”

She slips a robe on. “You don’t know the half of it.”

He Apparates them to the manor, which is still intact and not on fire, which Narcissa seems to think is a minor miracle. “They can’t be that bad,” he protests as they walk up the path from the Apparation point to the manor.

“They’re unregistered Animagi,” she informs him. 

“That’s incredible,” he says. “But not that destructive, unless one of them turns into an elephant.”

“They turned everyone in Slytherin purple with orange stripes for a week last year, and blew up a bathroom while brewing some sort of potion,” she offers.

He kisses her temple impulsively. “You’d look good in purple and orange.”

She snorts. “I’m sure there’s pictures somewhere.”

They walk through the front door, and Lucius snags a Quaffle out of the air before it smashes into Narcissa’s face. “I wasn’t a Chaser for nothing,” he tells her.

She smiles a little, and they observe the chaotic game of indoor Quidditch or maybe a duel that’s going on. Regulus is on Sirius’s shoulders, attempting to catch a Snitch someone had let loose. The red-haired witch has her wand out and is waving it threateningly at James Potter, who has his hands up placatingly. The shortest of the group is jumping and attempting to catch bacon that’s been charmed to float around just out of his reach, and the werewolf is standing in the middle of it all, looking torn between joining in and yelling at them. He’s the first to spot Lucius and Narcissa, and makes a face that clearly says ‘I am so sorry’ and ‘this was not my fault’.

Narcissa clears her throat. When that doesn’t work, she draws a silvery rune and waves it toward the unfolding pandemonium. Everything freezes. “What do you think you’re doing?” she asks them, unfreezing the werewolf. “Lupin. You’re the sensible one. Explain.”

Lupin sighs. “Breakfast got a little out of hand.”

Mipsy peers out from the kitchen, eyes wide. “A little!” she squeaks disparagingly. “Breakfast is being charmed to fly! And there is being a rule about Quidditch in the manor but no one is listening to Mipsy!”

“It’s okay, Mipsy,” Lucius soothes, summoning a piece of bacon and taking a bite. “Breakfast is delicious.”

She seems slightly calmer. “Mipsy will be getting tea for Mr. Lucius and Miss Narcissa,” she decides. 

“Thank you, Mipsy,” Narcissa tells her, and turns back to Lupin. “I can see that breakfast got a little out of hand. That does not, however, explain why you left Hogwarts.”

Lupin runs a nervous hand through his hair. “Sirius was worried,” he says. 

“Just Sirius could have come,” she points out.

He shrugs. “It didn’t seem right, you know? You’re his family, but so are we.”

Narcissa unfreezes James Potter next. “Heir Potter,” she says politely. “Your mother will be over to collect you and your friends later today and return you to Hogwarts.”

“Hell,” he mutters. “She’s going to be pissed.”

Though frozen, Lucius is pretty sure the red-haired witch looks pleased at that. 

“Miss Evans and Mr. Pettigrew,” Narcissa says, eyeing the witch and shortest wizard.

Pettigrew is frozen six inches off of the ground, arm outstretched for a piece of bacon. He crashes to the ground when she unfreezes them. Evans lowers her wand, which had been pointed at Potter. “Miss Black,” she says politely.

“My proper title is technically Regent Black now,” Narcissa corrects, with something akin to amusement. 

“Regent Black,” Evans repeats.

“You could always call me Narcissa though,” Narcissa offers.

Lucius watches the two witches with interest. They obviously know each other quite well, though Evans looks uncomfortable and Narcissa seems tense. He thinks back to Narcissa telling Regulus to ask Lily Evans if he ever needed help with anything but didn’t want to owe his Housemates. He remembers her rant on blood purity, the mention of brilliant Muggle-born, Lily Evans. Lily Evans’ favorite flowers are daisies, something Narcissa had known. He smiles. 

“Regent Black,” Lily says firmly. “It would hardly be proper to be too familiar now, would it?” Lucius is certain he doesn’t imagine the way her eyes flick toward him.

“I suppose not, Miss Evans,” Narcissa agrees. 

Mipsy appears with tea. “Green tea for Miss Narcissa,” she says. “Mipsy is thinking you is not needing caffeine. Black for Mr. Lucius,” she narrows her eyes. “Mipsy is knowing you slept in a chair.”

Lucius shrugs. “You got me, Mipsy. I did.”

“Mipsy is being glad Mr. Lucius cares about Miss Narcissa as much as he is caring about his business,” Mipsy informs him.

“Thank you, Mipsy,” Narcissa takes a sip. “Did you put lemon in this? It’s excellent.”

The house elf beams. “Lemon is being good when you is sick,” she informs her, gives Lucius a look, and disappears back to the kitchen.

“Are you feeling better, Regent Black?” Evans asks.

“I’m feeling much better,” Narcissa says. “I’d been cursed, but it was lifted. The Healer also gave me at least eight different potions. I don’t think I’ve felt this good in years.”

“Me neither,” Sirius says. “Her name was Kuznetsov, right? Someone should tell St. Mungo’s about her. Britain could use a Healer like that.”

“She didn’t seem particularly enthralled with the idea of moving to Britain,” Narcissa says wryly, and Lucius smiles.

“I thought it was just Regent Black seeing a Healer,” Potter says suspiciously. “What was wrong with you?”

“Too handsome,” Sirius waves dismissively.

“Curse damage,” Regulus says at the same time. 

“Will you grant me permission to yell at and possibly punch your cousin, Sirius Black, Regent Black?” Potter asks tightly.

“He’s your cousin too, Heir Potter. Have at him,” Narcissa shrugs. “Don’t hit him where it’ll show unless you want to explain it to your mother though.”

Potter drags Sirius out of the room, and the sound of a distant shouting match begins shortly after. 

“Purebloods really are all related,” Evans says, shaking her head. 

“My parents were first cousins,” Regulus informs her. “And Narcissa and Sirius used to be engaged, and Narcissa had an affair with Evan Rosier. He’s her first cousin.”

“Ignore the oversharing,” Narcissa tells her. “It’s the inbreeding.”

“It’s actually that I haven’t been properly socialized,” Regulus jokes. “I have webbed toes though. That’s the inbreeding.”

“That must make you a good swimmer,” Evans looks, if possible, even less comfortable than before.

Narcissa takes pity on her. “He’s joking about the toes.”

Regulus takes off a sock and shows Lily his foot. “See? And Sirius says the inbreeding just makes our family crazy and infertile, anyway.”

“Sirius is a bad influence,” Narcissa frowns. “And Andromeda had a little girl a few years ago, so we can’t be completely infertile.”

“I’m not related to any of them,” Lucius offers. “It’s because my father is French though and the British and French purebloods avoid each other.”

“Well,” says Evans. “I’m a Muggle-born, if it makes you feel any better. I’m pretty high up on the list of undesirables for British purebloods too.”

“Lily is way nicer than most of the purebloods,” Regulus tells him. “I got lost on my way to the greenhouses once and she helped me and didn’t even want anything for it.”

“Do people usually want something from you?” Lucius asks.

Regulus makes a ‘no duh’ face. “I’m the Black heir.”

“I need a nap before Lady Potter gets here,” Narcissa mutters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed!


	14. Sorry Folks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going to be the last update to this story. I had a lot of plans for it, and am including everything I have written in this chapter. My apologies to everyone who enjoyed this story and wanted to know where it went. If anyone wants to use ideas from this story, rewrite, or continue it please feel free.

Mipsy appears with a bowl of soup when Narcissa wakes up that afternoon. “Thank you, Mipsy,” she says. “This looks wonderful.”

Mipsy sniffs. “The boys is eating so fast they is not tasting it,” she narrows her bulbous eyes at Lucius, who is sitting in a chair by Narcissa’s bed. “And some of the boys is not eating at all.”

Lucius sighs. “I’m sorry Mipsy.”

She disappears, muttering to herself. Narcissa smiles at him. “She likes us.”

“How can you tell?” he wants to know. 

“She didn’t hit us with a newspaper, for one,” she says. 

Mipsy had whacked Sirius with one earlier, ostensibly for poor table manners but possibly because she didn’t appreciate his attitude. It had been even funnier when Narcissa explained that Sirius’s Animagus form was a dog. Lucius hums in agreement. “When’s your big Wizengamot vote?”

“The afternoon before Samhain starts,” she replies. “I think they wanted to make sure it didn’t run long.”

“Think you’ve got the votes?” he asks.

“I know I don’t,” Narcissa tells him. “Help me up. I need to be dressed and in my office when Lady Potter gets here.”

“She’s kind of scary,” Lucius comments, steadying Narcissa and letting her use him as a crutch as she moves toward her closet. 

“Don’t let her hear you say that,” Narcissa mutters. “She’ll be unbearably smug. Can you lace a corset?”

“I can unlace one,” he replies cheerfully, earning himself a glare.

\-------

Narcissa’s office looks like a cross between a newspaper and a textbook exploded. There are papers everywhere, tacked to the walls, and piled on every available flat surface. She looks around a little despairingly when they walk in. “I’m never going to get this cleaned in time for Lady Potter’s visit. She’s going to refuse to intercede with Lord Potter on the grounds that I’m a disorganized mess.”

His attention moves to the central chart on a corkboard. It’s a list of each of the one hundred votes in the Wizengamot, who holds it, and which way they’re leaning toward voting. “You convinced the Longbottoms,” he says. “How hard can the Potters be?”

The Longbottoms, along with the Bones, Greengrass, and Prewett families are all listed as ‘yes’ votes. 

“It’s not enough,” she tells him, following his gaze. “I’ve only got 25 yes votes, for sure. And that’s counting mine.”

Lucius eyes the board. “Regulus mentioned a Shafiq in one of his letters.” 

The Shafiq family, listed as ‘unknown’ according to Narcissa, have five votes. She frowns. “Adila, yes. Her father is the family’s third son, and she’s the youngest of four. I doubt she knows anything, or has any influence.”

“The Crouch family,” Lucius tries, but she’s shaking her head before he can finish the thought. 

“Even less likely than the Potters. You would have to pry every knut out of Crouch’s cold, dead hands,” she says.

He grimaces. “That’s pleasant.”

She makes the same face back at him, and the Floo chimes. “Lady Potter,” Narcissa breathes. “Please, come through.”

Lady Potter is no less intimidating in the light of day, and frowns at them. “I need a drink,” she decides.

Instantly, Mipsy appears. “What can Mipsy be getting Lady Potter?”

Dorea blinks. “Mipsy. Hello. Whiskey, if you please.”

Mipsy says, “Yes, Lady Potter. For Miss Narcissa and Mr. Lucius?”

“Tea for me,” Lucius says.

“Likewise, Mipsy. Thank you,” Narcissa adds.

The house elf beams, lime eyes bright, and disappears again. “I had no idea this was where she’d gotten to,” Lady Potter says. “Lanksy just said she’d found other employment.”

“We’re lucky to have her,” Narcissa tells her. “She’s been very helpful.”

Mipsy returns soon with the drinks. Lucius repeats the praise, causing the creature to go a dull olive color he’s come to associate with embarrassment. She is not too embarrassed to inform him that he might not be that useless, given Lady Potter likes him, before disappearing again. Lady Potter snorts. “Always did have an attitude, that one. Now, let’s see how those stuffy old fools are leaning for the vote.”

Lucius, for all that he had experience in some quite underhanded business dealings, was not prepared for British politics. After several hours of arguing, writing vaguely threatening letters that implied they knew something and wouldn’t hesitate in the least to leak it to the papers, more letters offering bribes, and several calling in favors, the vote was looking like it would be much more likely to go in Narcissa’s favor. 

Black, for, obviously, 9 votes  
Potter, for after I talk to Charlus, 7 votes  
Bones, for, 3 votes  
Longbottom, for, nice maneuvering, child, 6 votes  
Prewett, for, 3 votes  
Greengrass, for, though I don’t want to know what you did to convince them, 4 votes  
Shafiq, unknown, we should set up a meeting, 5 votes  
Nott, against, the assholes, 4 votes  
Yaxley, unknown leaning toward against, 1 vote  
Abbott, could be persuaded, 3 votes  
Travers, against, it has to be a conflict of interest to have the Minister on the Wizengamot, 5 votes  
Rosier, against, not after that stunt with Evan, 3 votes  
Macmillan, maybe, a decent sort, 3 votes  
Flint, unknown, 2 votes  
Crouch, against, I’d like to give old Barty a piece of my mind, 6 votes  
Burke, maybe, 2 votes  
Bulstrode, unknown, 4 votes  
McKinnon, for, Mark is a good man, 1 vote  
Goldstein, for if they know what’s good for them, 3 votes  
Patil, maybe, 3 votes  
Montague, for, Adorjan still remembers Grindelwald, 3 votes  
Ogden, for, the old man owes me a favor, 4 votes  
Boot, against, pompous upstart, 1 vote  
Fawcett, unknown, not worth it, 3 votes  
Weasley, for, Cedrella and I are cousins, she’ll talk to Septimus, 3 votes  
Bellchant, maybe, 4 votes  
Parkinson, for, Pamela is the one really pulling the strings, 3 votes  
Hyslop, Balint could be made to see sense, 2 votes

“That’s forty-nine ‘for’ votes, and a solid number that could be persuaded toward your cause,” Lady Potter says, sounding pleased. “You should set up meetings with the Shafiqs for sure. Then the Bellchants, Abbotts, and Macmillans just in case anyone can’t be persuaded. Write letters to all of the lesser families to show you haven’t forgotten them. Ego outweighs values nine times out of ten.”

“I will, Lady Potter,” Narcissa says. “Your help has been invaluable.”

“Blood is blood,” says Lady Potter. “And I don’t want my son to spend his life living in fear. Supporting the Auror budget increase is the right choice. Now, about how you handled your parents.”

Narcissa starts to look distinctly mulish. “I don’t regret it.”

“I don’t expect you do. Sending my dear sister to St. Mungo’s was well done, as was whatever actually happened to Orion. Cygnus was sloppy though, and I’d have gotten rid of Druella in a more permanent manner. She’s doing nothing but wasting money now.”

“You think I should have killed my own mother?” Narcissa challenges. 

Lady Potter shrugs. “What’s stopping you? Don’t tell me it’s sentiment, child. There’s no room for that kind of weakness in the world.”

“It would be far more efficient to let her drink herself to death in Spain,” Narcissa replies coldly. 

“We should introduce our parents,” Lucius mutters, but the two women ignore him.

“If you haven’t got the stomach for it I’m sure darling Bella could be persuaded. She’s the one that killed Cygnus, isn’t she?” Lady Potter plows on.

“I killed my father,” Narcissa informs her. “Bella said it was right, since I was his favorite. She just wanted to watch,” she leans very close to Lady Potter. “And I wish I’d ripped his intestines out and fed them to him, but I was a little short on time. How’s that for sentiment?”

The older woman cackles. “Put your claws away, child. You’re a true Black, and if you ever make a bid to become the lady of the family instead of the regent you have my support. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go collect my wayward offspring and his friends. Would you like me to return Regulus to Hogwarts as well?”

“If you would be so kind,” Narcissa is still tense, and eyeing Lady Potter warily. 

“Mipsy,” Lady Potter calls.

Mipsy appears. “Lady Potter?”

“Would you mind taking me to the hooligans? I’m returning them to Hogwarts,” she offers her arm for the house elf to grasp.

Mipsy mutters something along the lines of, “Mipsy be thanking the powers that be,” and she and Lady Potter disappear with a pop. 

“Well,” says Narcissa. “That was certainly something.”

“Did you really kill your father?” Lucius asks. 

She looks at him searchingly. “Does that disgust you? Are you angry?”

“I’ve never killed anyone,” he confesses. “The thought of taking a life, I don’t know. It doesn’t sit right.”

Narcissa shrugs. “Father is the only one I’ve ever killed, and I don’t regret it. Someday I’d like to kill Rabastan. Magic makes it easy.”

“I’ve never even cast an Unforgivable,” Lucius says. 

Another shrug. “It’s about intent. You have to mean it,” she smiles a little at him. “I like that you don’t have that kind of anger and hate in your soul.”

“I slept with Bellatrix once,” he blurts out, since they seem to be sharing secrets and that one’s been bugging him. 

Her eyebrows go up. “When?”

“Two years ago,” Lucius says. “I might not have known it was her except she left an earring behind and I ended up asking the bartender who she was and tracked her down. Rodolphus answered the door when I went to return it. It was their honeymoon.”

Narcissa laughs so hard she almost cries. “Did you give him the earring?”

Lucius shakes his head. “Told him I was selling brooms. He wasn’t impressed.”

\------------------------------------------

It’s the next weekend, and Lucius is wakes up with a start when Narcissa pounces on him. “What time is it?” he asks blearily.

“Time for you to get up. Mipsy is making omelettes and we’re trying a new type of coffee bean today,” she says. “Also, meetings. Look menacing. Don’t say anything. Maybe talk about Greyback if it’ll help. I can’t believe you know that monster.”

“Isn’t that friend of Sirius’s a werewolf?” Lucius asks. 

Since the curse had been lifted Narcissa seemed to have acquired at least twice the normal amount of energy.

“Greyback is the one that bit him,” Narcissa explains. “I haven’t got a problem with werewolves. Just ones that hurt kids.”

He yawns instead of answering. “I can look menacing. Am I playing bodyguard or fiance today?”

It’s dark, but he’s pretty sure she pouts. “Why not both?”

She clambers off of him, lighting candles as she heads to his closet. “We’re not dressing up for this, are we?” he asks, watching her.

Narcissa, who is still in her pajamas, smiles brightly at him. “Business formal robes should do it.”

Lucius can manage that. 

He’s feeling less confident about that after Narcissa rejects all three pairs of dress shoes he owns after spending fifteen minutes complaining about the shape of the buttons on his cloak. Honestly, they’re just circles. “What are you so worried about?” he finally asks. “You’re young, beautiful, and a powerful political ally. They’ll be hard pressed not to like you.”

“This is the first time we’re doing this sort of thing together,” she says. “Everyone will remember it.”

“You think about you a lot more than anyone else does,” he says sagely. “I should tell Regulus that, actually. I sound very wise.”

She rolls her eyes. 

\-------

After an excellent breakfast, they’re on their way to Scotland to meet with the Macmillan family. The lord of the family, Alban, is rather infamous in the pureblood world. He prefers to live in a cottage in the Highlands with his mistress and a herd of cows. His wife presides over the family’s manor home, which is also occupied by their only son and his family. “Everyone knows he lives with his mistress?” Lucius asks doubtfully, after Narcissa has finished explaining this to him.

She shrugs. “It’s a little scandalous, but he and his wife produced a proper heir and he’s not running around having illegitimate children. They’re apparently both happier this way.”

A plump witch in her sixties answers the door when they knock. The cottage is covered in some sort of flowering vine, and there’s a meticulously maintained garden next to it. “Oh, hello!” she beams. “You must be Regent Black. Do come in. I must apologize for Alban, he’s still out in the barn, milking.”

“It’s quite alright,” Narcissa smiles at her, and they follow her inside. 

The inside of the cottage is cozy. There are several brightly colored patchwork quilts, and the woman had evidently been baking because the air smells like vanilla. “And who is this?” the woman turns her benevolent gaze onto Lucius.

“This is Lucius Malfoy, my fiance,” Narcissa replies.

The briefest flash of a calculating look crosses the woman’s face. “It’s a pleasure, sir,” she says. “I’m Rosemary Leopold. I don’t believe I recognize your name?”

Lucius glances at Narcissa, who raises her eyebrows slightly, but makes no move to help him. “I’m, um, French,” he says. “And not a noble.”

“Oh,” says Rosemary, looking startled. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to be rude. We don’t get a lot of news around here.”

Lucius shrugs. “I’m more offended that you called me sir, honestly,” he smiles in what he hopes is a disarming way. “It’s Lucius, please. You’ll make me feel like my father.”

This is evidently enough to charm Rosemary, because she spends the next half hour chatting amiably with them and feeding them gingerbread cookies. Lucius learns that she was widowed when she was young, leaving her with four small children and no money. Alban Macmillan noticed her working as a seamstress, and fell in love. They’d been together since, and he spoiled her grandchildren as if they were his own. He also talked her out of the cookie recipe, explaining Mipsy’s love of seasonally-themed foods and his plan to give her a collection of recipes for Yule. 

By the time Alban stumps up from the barn, smelling like hay and grumbling to himself, Lucius is pleasantly full and relaxed. He jumps to his feet to bow when Narcissa elbows him, and the greying man cracks a smile. “Oh, relax you two. If Rosie’s stuffed you with as many cookies as I suspect you ought to be resting and digesting, not bowing and scraping.”

“Lord Macmillan, thank you for your hospitality and for agreeing to see us,” Narcissa says. 

“Call me Alban. It’s no trouble,” he grunts. “Had to see for myself who has the Wizengamot so riled up, didn’t I? Would have been less fuss to stir up a hornet’s nest, if you ask me.”

“Are the other members quite upset?” Narcissa asks, causing him to snort.

“I’ve gotten no less than three letters from old Barty Crouch, and another from the Minister himself. Then not three days ago Lady Potter showed up on my doorstep unannounced. I about fell over dead from the shock of it,” he says.

“Can you imagine?” Rosemary asks. “The Minister himself writing us and then Lady Potter being here!” she shakes her head. “I’m too old for this kind of thing.”

“Lady Potter might have been my fault,” Narcissa says apologetically. 

“The whole thing is your fault,” Alban corrects. “What I want to know is why. You think this Voldemort upstart is threatening enough to bother the Wizengamot over?”

“I do,” Narcissa frowns. “He’s just beginning his campaign right now. It’s mostly Muggles and the occasion Muggle-born disappearing. There’s still time for us to prepare for when he escalates to half-bloods and blood traitors, or even anyone that disagrees with him. I’ve met him. I know some of his followers. I know what he’s capable of.”

“You’ve met him?” Alban leans forward. 

“You know what my parents and the Lord and Lady Black were like,” Narcissa says. “My cousin, Sirius, was disowned for refusing to take Voldemort’s Mark. My sister has it, and serves him faithfully.”

“What was he like?” Rosemary asks. “Did he show any sign of Dark Magic use?”

“If by signs of Dark Magic use you mean I watched him use the Killing Curse, then yes,” Narcissa says. “His hair was also falling out in patches, and his eyes reflected red light. His skin had a gray, flat tone.”

Rosemary has her hand over her heart. “Oh, you poor child.”

“When was this?” Alban wants to know, but he looks a little sick.

“My sister’s wedding. A little over two years ago,” Narcissa tells them.

Rosemary makes the Sign of the Cross. “God save us,” she says.

“It’s the red light you mentioned that has me worried,” Alban says. “The hair loss and the skin, those are normal symptoms of Dark Magic use. I’ve never heard about red eyes like that.”

“It’s caused by something called a tapetum lucidum. It’s a layer some animals have in their eyes. Werewolves have it too. It helps with night vision,” Narcissa explains. “Werewolves reflect yellow though.”

“What causes red?” Lucius asks. 

“I looked through the library at Grimmauld Place. There are a few things that could,” she looks vaguely ill, apparently recalling what those things were. “It’s all soul magic.”

“You’ve got my votes,” Alban says grimly. 

\------

“What kind of soul magic?” Lucius asks after they’re out of the cottage and walking a polite distance away to Apparate to the Bellchant household.

“I don’t want to say it out loud,” Narcissa tells him. “I’ll point to it in a book when we get home.”

They walk the rest of the way in silence, interrupted only by the soft pop of Apparation as they head to Bellchant Manor. Lucius is surprised to note that it’s smaller than Malfoy Manor. The door is answered by a frazzled woman who hands a baby to Narcissa and rushes back into the house saying, “Father will be with you in a moment please come in I’m so sorry the Potions lab is melting.”

The baby coos at Narcissa, who smiles at it softly. “Hi, baby,” she says, bouncing lightly. “You’re gorgeous, aren’t you?”

Lucius offers it a finger to grasp instead when it begins tugging at her hair. It gurgles happily. “I love children,” Narcissa says. “I kind of wish Regulus were this age again,” her voice switches to babytalk. “You’ve got much less attitude than an eleven year-old, don’t you? And I bet you never sigh or roll your eyes when someone tells you to do something.”

“If you think he’s bad now, wait until he’s a teenager,” a man’s amused voice says. 

Lucius looks up to see a striking, bearded black man. “Lord Bellchant,” Narcissa says politely. 

“Regent Black,” he replies. “I’m sure you didn’t come here just to hold my grandaughter.”

Lucius extricates his finger and they follow him up a flight of steps to his study. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with us,” Narcissa says. 

“I wanted to meet you,” Lord Bellchant informs her. “You’ve caused quite the commotion.”

“So I’ve been told,” she says.

The baby, no longer occupied with Lucius’s finger, has returned to tugging on Narcissa’s hair. She tilts her head obligingly, making it easier to reach. Lord Bellchant snorts. “I take it you’ve been out meeting people already then?”

“Just Lord Macmillan,” Narcissa tells him. “He was a little irate. Lady Potter showed up unannounced, and he had a letter from the Minister.”

“I had a letter from Lady Potter and the Minister show up here,” Lord Bellchant says thoughtfully. “I’m not sure which of us had it worse. Probably poor Alban. Lady Potter is a handful and a half.”

“I’m aware,” Narcissa says. “She was at Malfoy Manor just last weekend.”

Lord Bellchant’s attention shifts to Lucius. “I wasn’t aware your family was noble.”

“Not in centuries and never in Britain,” Lucius replies. “All that’s left is the old family home, and that was abandoned generations ago. Narcissa and I spent the summer renovating it.”

“It’s in France?” he asks, interested.

“The weather is lovely,” Narcissa confirms.

Lord Bellchant hums. “I would be much more inclined to attend the Black family Yule party if it were in France. London in December is miserable.”

Narcissa smiles. “It would be an honor if you were to attend.”

“I will, and I’ll vote your way on this budget increase on one condition,” he says.

Lucius doesn’t like the look in his eyes. “What condition is that?” Narcissa asks, not betraying any sort of suspicion.

She’s at least twice as paranoid as Lucius is, so that’s got to be an act. He crosses his arms so that his biceps bulge and does his best to look at Lord Bellchant menacingly. He thinks Narcissa, for all that she’s holding a baby, is much scarier even though all she does is raise an eyebrow.

Lord Bellchant is not intimidated in the least. “You’re quite the double act,” he says, amused. “Relax. I want to know the curse you used on Rabastan Lestrange.”

“It wasn’t a curse like you’re thinking,” Narcissa explains, not relaxing. “I was wearing an item of cursed jewelry I’d designed, meant to deter unwanted advances,” she tilts her head so one of her earrings is visible.

Lucius eyes it with interest. He’s noticed her wearing this pair before, but hadn’t realized what they were. They were flat silver disks, mottled with black. Lucius had thought that to be a design choice, but now that he’s really looking he recognizes some of the runes he’d seen the last time he was in Narcissa’s workroom. “Interesting,” Lord Bellchant says, pulling out a pair of spectacles. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all,” Narcissa tells him, to Lucius explaining, “The spectacles allow him to see magic. The Bellchant family are quite gifted with that sort of enchantment.”

Lord Bellchant ignores them in favor of staring intently at Narcissa. “Well, Regent Black,” he says finally. “I would hate to cross you. I pity the fools who think you are nothing but a shell wearing your family’s name.”

“You don’t want a copy?” Narcissa asks. 

He shakes his head. “It would reflect poorly on me, as the lord of a Light family, to own such a thing. I will be keeping this information to myself. I was merely curious. There is quite the betting pool about what you did to Lestrange. I was incorrect, but I don’t see why anyone else needs to know that.”

Narcissa gives the baby to its slightly scorched mother on their way out of the manor. “I can’t believe he promised his votes to you just to find out if he won a bet,” Lucius mutters. “And I can’t believe they bet on that.”

She shrugs, not arguing. “The Bellchants are an old and wealthy family. I doubt he thinks the vote matters either way.”

They Apparate.

\-------

Next stop, the Abbotts. They live in a London townhouse, much like Grimmauld Place would be if the Black family home wasn’t filled to the rafters with Dark magic. Lord Abbott himself greets them, earning himself a raised eyebrow from Narcissa. “You’re an important guest, Regent Black,” he explains on the way to his study. “And you’ve caused more of stir in British politics than we’ve seen in ages. Forgive an old man his curiosity?”

Lord Abbott is hardly old, especially by Wizengamot standards. He’s perhaps mid-forties, had curly blond hair that has yet to begin graying, and the soft body of someone who spends most of his time at a desk. “You’re hardly old, Lord Abbott,” Narcissa tells him, echoing Lucius’s thoughts.

“I feel like it,” he informs her with a cheerful grin. “I wish my father were alive to see this. A woman on the Wizengamot! He’d drop dead. My wife is thrilled. We’ve just got daughters, you see, and now there’s precedent for my oldest inheriting instead of one of my sister’s brats. She’s married to a Yaxley. I’ll lose these seats to them over my dead body.”

“That tends to be how seats are lost,” Narcissa agrees, smiling. “I think your daughter will be welcome in the Wizengamot when the time comes though. I’ve yet to be discriminated against or threatened.”

Lucius and Narcissa take a seat in Lord Abbott’s study, which is a cheerful yellow and full of colorfully bound books. “Lord Crouch hasn’t tried anything?” Lord Abbott wants to know. “What you’re proposing takes his fiscally conservative sensibilities and… what’s the Muggle saying? Takes them out back and shoots them?”

“Drags it behind the barn and shoots it,” Lucius corrects.

Lord Abbott claps. “Muggles! Delightful creatures.”

Lucius is pretty sure he actually means that. Narcissa looks amused. “My sister is married to a Muggle-born,” she says. “Her father-in-law is something called an aerospace engineer. He designs big metal things that look like birds. The Muggles use them to fly.”

“Airplanes,” Lucius says. “I’ve been on one. I’d take a broom any day. They pressurize them and it’s quite an uncomfortable experience.”

“Fascinating,” Lord Abbott says. “I’ll have to see if I can talk my wife into flying in one for our next vacation. They sound phenomenal. Of course,” he chuckles, “We have to survive this vote first. This Voldemort fellow can’t be that bad, can he?”

“He’s much worse than anything you’re imagining,” Narcissa informs him. “I’ve seen him kill, and he shows symptoms of using soul magic.”

“He has Fenrir Greyback working as an enforcer for him,” Lucius adds. 

Lord Abbott rocks back in his chair. “That can’t be true.”

“Voldemort is going to be the next dark lord if we don’t do something to stop him,” says Narcissa.

Lord Abbott is already shaking his head. “Britain hasn’t had a dark lord in living memory.”

Lucius tries his bicep bulging trick again. “We’re about due for one then, yeah?”

The man in front of him pales gratifyingly. Lucius mentally congratulates himself. “It can’t be,” Lord Abbott repeats. “I don’t know what trouble you’re trying to cause, miss,” but Narcissa interrupts him.

“Regent Black,” she says firmly. “I am Regent Black, not miss.”

He waves his hand. “You’re just a teenage girl.”

Narcissa stands up. “I have three times the political power your family ever will, and a very long memory. I won’t forget this,” to Lucius she says, “We’re leaving.”

They leave without Lord Abbott sitting at his desk, looking lost. 

“That was something,” Lucius says, trailing after her down the street. 

She sighs. “I had hoped to persuade him.”

“He seemed friendly,” Lucius offers. “Maybe he’ll change his mind?”

“After I threatened him?” Narcissa asks. “I doubt it. He’ll run and hide behind Crouch.”

Lucius shrugs, and changes the topic. “Want lunch? We’re not supposed to meet the Shafiq family for another hour and a half.”

“You’re hungry after all of those cookies?” Narcissa wants to know.

Lucius waits for a nod of permission before he drapes an arm around her shoulders. “You’re a growing teenager. You need to eat.”

“I haven’t grown since I was fourteen,” she informs him. “I could be interested in lunch though.”

“Excellent,” Lucius says. “There’s a Russian restaurant I found the last time I was in London on business. It’s amazing. Muggle though, if you don’t mind a change of clothes.”

Narcissa does not, even though the 1970s are, perhaps, the worst years for Muggle fashion yet. “You look ridiculous,” Narcissa informs him.

Lucius, who is wearing a mustard yellow button-down shirt topped with a mustard, brown, and cream sweater vest, scoffs. Every article of clothing she’s wearing is coral, and the trousers flare out around her ankles so extremely that they’re wider than her waist. “I look ridiculous?” he asks.

She swats at him. “Come on. Do you know how long it’s been since I had good caviar?”

They split a caviar plate as an appetizer, while Lucius explains what a mullet is. “Not a fan of long hair on men?” he teases as Narcissa shoots increasingly judgemental glances at the man two tables over who had prompted her question.

Lucius’s own hair is shoulder-length, and currently tied back. “If you get bangs I’ll shave your head myself,” she declares.

He smirks. “I’d look worse bald.”

She doesn’t argue, but she does eat more of the meat and cabbage pie they split for the main course than he does. She puts her hand on her stomach and sighs when they finish. “Alright. I feel like a person again and I am ready for more politics.”

Lucius pays, because Narcissa’s grasp on the intricacies of Muggle money is tenuous at best. She Apparates them to the Shafiq family manor, which is so grand Lucius has to stop for a second to take it in. “Impressive, isn’t it?” Narcissa asks.

“It reminds me of the Taj Mahal,” he confesses.

She nods. “Same architecture style. The Shafiq family originated in Pakistan long before it was a country. They’ve been in Britain for centuries, but they hold onto their roots.”

“Anything else I should know about them? Mistresses? Gambling habits?” he jokes.

Narcissa snorts. “You don’t even know half of the scandals. Lord Shafiq is fairly tame though, by Wizengamot standards. He’s generally thought to be sensible, and he’s well-liked by most. That’s going to be our biggest problem, actually. He’s notoriously neutral on divisive issues. Don’t mention Greyback here. Lady Shafiq is a werewolf, and her husband won’t take kindly to anyone speaking ill of them, even if they’re a monster like Greyback is.”

“Fairly tame,” Lucius quotes her. 

She shrugs, completely unapologetic. “Lady Shafiq is Lord Bellchant’s sister, so don’t say anything bad about him either.”

“I liked him,” Lucius protests. “Minus the whole gambling thing.”

“You’re a terrible criminal,” Narcissa says. 

A house elf meets them at the door. “Regent Black, Mr. Malfoy,” is squeaks. “If you will be following me.”

It leads them to a sitting room, occupied by an older couple, likely in their seventies. The man inclines his head, dismissing the house elf, and gestures for them to sit. Narcissa curtsies first, back in dress robes. Lucius follows her lead and bows. “Lord Shafiq, Lady Shafiq,” she murmurs. “It’s an honor.”

“The honor is ours, Regent Black,” Lord Shafiq says, voice deep and smooth. “You’re quite an unusual young lady.”

“Oh, Ibrahim,” Lady Shafiq sighs. “Don’t frighten the poor girl. We’re quite pleased to have you here,” she informs Lucius and Narcissa. “Don’t let the old grouch get to you.”

Lord Shafiq rolls his eyes. “I’m not frightening the poor girl. She’s got the whole British government in a tizzy. I imagine it would take a more than me to frighten her.”

His wife purses her lips, but her eyes are sparkling playfully. “I don’t know,” she says. “You’re quite intimidating.”

He turns long-suffering eyes to them. “Are you frightened, Regent Black?” he asks.

Narcissa smiles. “Will your feelings be hurt if I say no? I could pretend.”

Lady Shafiq cackles. “Give her the votes, darling. She’s funny.”

“I’ve had Crouch, the Minister, and Lady Potter herself here in the past week,” Lord Shafiq informs them, ignoring his wife. “And a letter, just now, from Lord Abbott. He says you’re insane.”

Narcissa does a palms up gesture. “Madness does run in the family. And, of course, I’m just a teenage girl. Hardly a sensible creature.”

Lucius rolls his eyes, which both of the Shafiqs catch. Lady Shafiq winks at him. “And what does your charming young man think?” she asks.

She must find whatever panicked grimace crosses Lucius’s face funny, because she lets out an undignified snort. “Calm down, child. I expect Regent Black told you not to say much. She has you playing the muscle today, I’m sure. Ibrahim has me do the same sometimes,” her eyes flash yellow, and she grins with all of her teeth.

This is clearly a test, Lucius thinks. He shrugs at her. The wards in the room would actually physically crush him if he made any threatening overtures, and he’s been in a bar fight with a werewolf. Lady Shafiq might be elderly, but if the wards didn’t kill him she most certainly would. “Who warded this room?” he asks. “It’s very well-done.”

Narcissa cuts her eyes too him, so he makes the wards visible to her. Her eyebrows go up. “I’ll have to be kinder to you than I was to Lord Abbott,” she remarks lightly.

“Lord Abbott is an idiot,” Lady Shafiq says. 

“My oldest daughter is quite fond of ward-making,” Lord Shafiq informs Lucius. “She’ll be pleased to know you admire them. You’ve got a bit of a reputation in the field, I’m told.”

“You’ve heard of me?” Lucius asks.

“Don’t look so concerned,” Lady Shafiq tells him, while her husband nods.

Narcissa’s eyes are laughing at Lucius, though her expression remains stoic. Lucius settles on saying, “Great.”

“You understand why this is a difficult decision for me to make,” Lord Shafiq says, shifting the topic back to the Wizengamot vote. 

Narcissa nods. “It’s quite a polarizing topic.”

“Which is why I’ll be abstaining,” Lord Shafiq tells her.

Lucius watches Narcissa’s face break into a genuine smile. “Good,” Lady Shafiq says. “I would have hated to cause a scene trying to convince him to give you the votes if you didn’t have enough for a majority without us.”

“How many votes do you have?” Lord Shafiq inquires.

“Fifty-six, for sure,” Narcissa replies, earning a nod of approval from Lady Shafiq. 

“Best of luck, Regent Black. It was an honor to meet you,” she says.

Lord Shafiq inclines his head, and the house elf appears to lead them out. Lucius thanks her. If house elves had eyebrows, he’s pretty sure this one would have raised hers at him. Narcissa grabs his arm, and Apparates them home. 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------

“I’m glad we did this on a Saturday,” Narcissa says. “I’m going to need tomorrow to recover.”

They’re in her bedroom. Lucius had flopped dramatically onto the loveseat in the corner upon entry, and was now watching her remove her fake eyelashes. “Doesn’t that hurt?” he wants to know.

She brandishes a bottled potion at him, a cotton ball pressed to one eye. “This dissolves the glue, so no. Only if you get it in your eye.”

“Wizards have it so much easier,” Lucius says. “All I did today was brush my hair.”

“I’m not even going to do that tomorrow,” she informs him. “Tomorrow is a lazy day. I’m going to have tea. I’m going to read gardening magazines. I might work on a new piece of jewelry, just for me. The possibilities are endless.”

Mipsy, perched on the bed and also watching Narcissa’s eyelash related activities with interest, snorts. “Mipsy is thinking Miss Narcissa isn’t knowing how to be lazy.”

Narcissa sticks her tongue out at her. “Says the elf that hasn’t taken a day off since she got here.”

The elf sniffs, mock-affronted. “Mipsy is taking breaks and relaxing. I is making friends with the bowtruckles in the woods and reading Miss Narcissa’s magazines for recipe ideas.”

“How are the bowtruckles?” Lucius asks.

Mipsy beams. “They is being good! They is getting ready to be hibernating. I is feeding them kitchen scraps.”

“That’s excellent,” he tells her. “I think there are a couple magizoologists that might be interested in visiting them in the spring.”

“Wizards is not making sense,” Mipsy complains. “Bowtruckles is just being friendly sticks. If you is wanting one so badly just be charming one yourself. No need to be visiting.”

“We’re rather inconvenient as a species,” Narcissa agrees.

Mipsy yawns and stretches. “Thinking about it is being exhausting to Mipsy. I is going to bed.”

“Goodnight,” Lucius says.

“See you for tomorrow,” Narcissa tells her.

The elf disappears with a crack. “I don’t know what I’d do without her around,” Lucius sighs. “Probably starve to death.”

Narcissa, evidently done with her beauty potions for the evening, walks over to the couch and sits on the edge, patting his cheek. “Poor baby. I wouldn’t let that happen.”

“No?” he asks.

She hums. “No. I’d have Kreacher take care of you.”

“Take care of me,” he echos. “That sounds ominous.”

“It is. He’s as mad as my aunt is,” she leans in close. “And he’ll only make classic British food because he thinks foreigners are a stain on this country.”

“You tell the scariest stories,” Lucius murmurs.

“Beef wellington,” she whispers. “Steak and kidney pie.”

He pretends to shudder. “Please, you’re frightening me.”

“Black pudding,” she tells him. 

This time, his shudder is real. “Horrifying,” he informs her.

She laughs. “I’m going to get in bed. You’re welcome to join me, but I’ll put my feet on you and they’re very cold.”

“Now there’s something we could have threatened Lord Abbott with,” Lucius says. “I’m going to go put pajamas on. I’ll be back.”

\-------

On October 31st, Lucius finds himself crammed between two reporters in the public gallery of the Wizengamot chamber. One of them, speaking Russian, curses at him for taking up so much space. He responds cheerfully, also in Russian, and the woman gives up on attempting to elbow him out of her way. Most of the gallery is filled with foreign journalists, jockeying for a spot they can take photographs from. There’s a single bedraggled wizard from the Daily Prophet crammed into a corner, looking miserable. Lucius finds this odd, personally. He would have thought there would be more interest from British citizens, given that it was their future being decided. 

Across the floor and protected from shouting reporters and unhappy citizens by a ward, the Wizengamot members are seated in a semi circle arranged around a raised dais. He can see Narcissa from here. She’s lounging gracefully in her seat, with Regulus huddled next to her. Lucius waves, and the boy waves back, brightening a little. Narcissa follows his line of sight, and smiles at Lucius. She’s quickly distracted by Alban Macmillan, who doesn’t appear to care that the rest of the members are giving her a wide berth. Lord Potter joins them shortly afterward, and a steady stream of lesser lords make their way over to chat.

The Russian woman did not miss his interaction with Regulus, and turns to him sharply. “You know the Black family?” she demands.

“I’m Regent Black’s fiance,” he tells her. 

Conversation stops around them, and Lucius finds himself the center of attention. “Do you think the man calling himself Lord Voldemort is a threat?” a man asks.

“Yes,” Lucius tells him. 

Dozens of quills emerge and begin to scratch on parchment. “What makes you so sure?” another reporter asks.

“He and his followers have been attacking Muggles and Muggle-born families for years. Recently those attacks have become more frequent and less effort has been made to cover them up. Right now he’s just an extremist, but if the increase to the Auror budget fails to pass there won’t be anything stopping him from escalating further,” Lucius tells them. “If you think, for some misguided reason, that Muggles are an acceptable loss, think about this: how long until he targets half-bloods? Or immigrants? Anyone that doesn’t match his idea of a proper British wizard? The Wizengamot needs to take a hardline stance against any form of discrimination or intolerance before it’s too late.”

“The Black family is notoriously Dark, and has notable ties to blood purist movements in the past.” a woman says. “What’s causing Regent Black to move away from her roots?”

“Let me be very clear when I say that Dark magic and rituals are over-regulated and misunderstood,” Lucius tells his audience. “And that Dark magic and blood purism are not tied together. Blood purism is an outdated and, quite frankly, harmful idea. The Dark is an integral part of our heritage.”

“What about the Unforgivables?” someone shouts. “Are those misunderstood?”

“The Unforgivables are unforgivable for a reason,” he says shortly. “I’m talking about religious practices that have been outlawed in Britain for centuries now, and things like blood magic, which the Ministry banned because it was frightened of its power.”

“Grindelwald used blood magic to enslave a vast number of followers,” the Russian woman says. “Are you saying that’s okay?”

“I’m saying that if I were creative enough I could do the same thing with a perfectly legal charm or potion,” Lucius informs her. “I agree that any ritual or spell that can compromise an individual’s free will should be banned, but banning an entire discipline? It would be like taking away our wands because they give us the potential to perform the Unforgivables.”

The woman nods, appearing satisfied. At that moment, there’s a banging from the dais. “Order, order,” calls a man that can only be Albus Dumbledore if his paisley robes and long beard are anything to go by.

The reporters immediately lose interest in Lucius, who slumps in relief. That had been one of the most stressful things to ever happen to him, and he’d once almost been eaten by a dragon in Argentina. “There’s only one item of business on the docket for today,” Dumbledore continues. “I’m sure many of you have plans for this evening, so let’s begin, shall we?”

Samhain would begin at sunset today. It was a family-oriented holiday, meant to be spent celebrating the lives of those that had died with those that were still alive. Lucius generally just burnt a stick of incense for his mother, muttering that he hoped she had finally found peace, and if she wasn’t dead then he wanted his offering to go to someone who didn’t have a family to miss them. Then he would feel guilty, because his mother was almost definitely dead, and light another stick of incense just for the abandoned spirit he’d invoked. The Wizengamot, full of large, ancient families, likely had much more grand, time-consuming traditions. 

“Alright,” says Dumbledore. “I’d usually open this item up for debate, but Lord Crouch has requested we waive that in the interest of time. Regent Black, as the sponsor of the bill at hand, do you agree with that measure?”

Narcissa’s eyes slide dismissively to Crouch. Lucius thinks the man looks constipated. “Yes, Chief Warlock,” she says. “I would hate to keep everyone from their festivities. I will, however, take questions from the press after the vote, and would be delighted to meet with any of you who wish to discuss it further, whatever the outcome may be.”

“Excellent,” Dumbledore claps his hands. “Bill ten ninety-three proposes a twenty percent budget increase to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, half of which is to go directly toward increasing the size and intensifying the training of the Auror Squad, as well as better equipping them to target the man calling himself Lord Voldemort. Minister Travers, if you would do us the honor of beginning the vote?”

The man who stands up is rather plain, but his robes are expensive. “Travers,” he says. “Five votes. Against.”  
Dumbledore nods, and draws a fiery red number five in the air to his left. “Thank you, Minister Travers. Regent Black, as the next highest ranking member of the Wizengamot, you’re up next.”

Narcissa stands. “Black. Nine votes. For.”

There is some mumbling at this, and Lucius is sure he catches the word ‘Lestrange.’ That was right, she had acquired the Lestrange votes from Bellatrix in a legally tenuous way, severely upsetting the normal balance of power in the Wizengamot. Dumbledore draws a green nine in the air on his right, ignoring the muttering. “Thank you, Regent Black.”

He proceeds with the vote, the only surprise coming in the form of Lord Shafiq, who votes for the increase instead of abstaining. Crouch and Travers both glare at him when he sits down, and Lucius thinks this is a shock to them too. When the vote is over, there’s a glowing green sixty-four and a red thirty-six. “The bill passes,” Dumbledore says, and anything else he might have meant to say is drowned out by an explosive amount of noise from both the reporters and the Wizengamot members.

Dumbledore spends several minutes trying to shout them down, and finally is able to say, “Meeting adjourned. Happy holidays.”

Narcissa and Regulus walk over to join Lucius, who ruffles Regulus’s hair. The boy rolls his eyes. “Narcissa put a lot of potions in it,” he informs Lucius. “I don’t think it moves anymore. I could probably fall off a broom and onto my head and be fine.”

“Let’s not test that though, yeah?” Lucius says.

Another eye roll. “I did not have that much sass when I was your age,” Lucius informs him. 

“I’m nowhere near as bad as Sirius was,” Regulus tells him. 

They look at Narcissa, who has evidently lost her temper with one of the reporters. Her hands are on her hips, and she’s scowling fiercely. The man she’s glaring at backs up a step, and then another. The Russian woman materializes next to Lucius. “He wanted to know if a few dead Muggle-borns were really worth all of this fuss,” she explains, amused. “What about you, Heir Black. Any thoughts on the matter?”

“I don’t want to grow up in a war,” Regulus says. “But I’d rather that than in a society that promotes blood purism.”

The woman nods, and writes that down. To Lucius she says, “I’d ask you to call me sometime if you ever get bored, but I don’t think you will.”

He watches as she maneuvers out of the crowd and toward the door. “Gross,” Regulus mutters. “Girls are gross.”

“Narcissa’s not so bad,” Lucius says, watching her round on another reporter, this one asking about her prior engagement to Rabastan Lestrange. 

They’re there for another hour, watching as the reporters realize that Narcissa has none of the qualms of the older generation about expressing herself, and that she’s not so much entertaining questions as she is writing their articles for them. 

“Ready to go home?” she asks, as the last and bravest of the reporters thanks her and begins to pack up.

 

\--------------------------------------------------

Narcissa had mentioned that she might invite family over for Samhain, but coming home from the Ministry to find Bellatrix and Andromeda arguing in the kitchen while Sirius and Mipsy looked on with interest was not what he had expected. Sirius made a shushing gesture when Narcissa opened her mouth to interrupt.

“We is having a bet about how long this is lasting,” Mipsy whispers. 

“–my own niece–”

“–Death Eater–”

“–family–”

“–monster–”

“Bella wants to meet Nymphadora,” Sirius explains quietly. “Andromeda isn’t having it.”

“–always were a bitch–”

“Let’s not get personal, now,” Narcissa says, ignoring Sirius’s disappointed sigh as he hands Mipsy several sickles. 

Bellatrix and Andromeda turn in unison, and break into frighteningly similar smiles. “Narcissa!” they exclaim, then glare at each other.

Narcissa crosses the room and draws them both into a hug. “I’ve missed you,” she tells them. 

“Now we’re in trouble,” Sirius says.

“They’re worse when they’re together,” Regulus agrees. 

Bellatrix is the first to turn her gaze to Lucius. She licks her lips. “Hey, handsome.”

This is enough to irritate Andromeda again. “For fuck’s sake, Bella,” she says. “Voldemort’s not enough for you?”

The eldest Black sister gets a very unpleasant smile on her face. “Jealous I’m not tied to my husband like a dog, Andy?”

“Some of happen to love our husbands,” Andromeda retorts. 

Bellatrix barks at her. “That’s what I hear when you talk.”

“Honestly, you two,” Narcissa says. 

Andromeda turns on her accusingly. “You! I don’t know why I bother defending you. I can’t believe you killed father without me.”

Sirius clears his throat. “Do we have to do this in front of the kid?” he asks.

They all turn to look at Regulus, who blinks at them. “Am I allowed to say fuck?” he wants to know. “Andromeda did.”

“Not in class,” Narcissa sighs. “And if you say it in front of a professor they’ll take points.”

“Cool,” Regulus says. “And I’m glad you guys killed Uncle Cygnus. I won’t tell anyone.”

“Killing people is wrong and not a valid method for dealing with problems,” Andromeda tells him. 

Narcissa nods in agreement. “What I did was very bad, and illegal.”

They look to Bellatrix, who shrugs. “I don’t give a fuck. Just don’t get caught.”

“I’m not going to kill anyone just because you guys do,” Regulus assures them. “I want to be a Healer, remember?”

“That’s the spirit,” Lucius says. “Just remember we’re all terrible role models before you do something, yeah?”

Andromeda frowns at him. “And why are you a bad role model?”

“Um,” says Lucius. “I’m French?”

Sirius snorts. “And a criminal.”

“A kind of criminal,” Lucius corrects. “Sometimes.”

Narcissa rolls her eyes. “Come on. We have an actual sitting room so we don’t have to stand in the foyer until sunset.”

Andromeda ends up fetching her daughter and baffled husband to introduce them to her sisters. Ted Tonks is blond, affable, and works in the Muggle world as a banker. Lucius likes him instantly. Their daughter is four years old, and currently sporting violently purple hair. “Had her right out of Hogwarts,” Ted tells Lucius. “Andy didn’t think she could have kids, so it was a bit of shock.”

They’re sitting on a couch, watching the sisters coo over the girl while Regulus and Sirius play chess. Nymphadora screws up her face, and her hair turns green. “I imagine that was a bit of a shock too,” Lucius says.

Ted chuckles. “My folks are Muggles, you know. First time she did that in front of them they about had heart attacks. Made them think maybe me and my accidental magic as a kid weren’t so bad though.”

Bellatrix looks, if possible, even more enchanted when the girl gives herself a pig nose. “She just learned how to do that,” Andromeda says proudly. “Her face was stuck like that for a week before she figured out how to change it back.” 

“Had the world’s biggest tantrum when we wouldn’t take her to the movies. Didn’t understand why she couldn’t go out in the Muggle world looking like that,” Ted says. 

“Ha!” Regulus says suddenly. “Checkmate.”

Lucius watches as Sirius blinks uncomprehendingly down at the chessboard. “I know you cheated, but I don’t know how.”

“I didn’t know you could cheat at chess,” Lucius says.

Ted grins. “If anyone could figure out how to it would be this lot.”

\-------

When the sun sets, they all troop out onto the grounds. Ted holds Nymphadora while the rest of them begin to build a bonfire. Each piece of wood fetched from the forest has to be carefully inspected for bowtruckles, but with so many people working it doesn’t take long for the fire to be roaring merrily. That done, they form a circle. Lucius ends up between Narcissa and Nymphadora, the latter of whom has altered her hair to be the same color as the blaze. Andromeda distributes sticks of incense, and the ceremony begins. 

Sirius is the first to speak. “For Uncle Alphard,” he says, and tosses his stick of incense into the fire.

It turns silver, and there’s a sound like a man’s laughter before the fire abates to its normal shade of orange. 

“For a Muggle woman, whose name I don’t know,” Bellatrix says, and the fire screams when she puts her incense in. 

The fire doesn’t react when Andromeda says, “For father, may his soul never find peace.”

“For my nan,” says Ted, and the fire gets a little hotter.

“Blackie,” Nymphadora mumbles. “My fish.”

“My mother, if she’s dead. A spirit no one mourns, if not,” Lucius had taken two sticks of incense when Andromeda had passed them out, and drops them both in the fire. 

It doubles in height, which doesn’t tell him anything. 

“For a boy I saw die in St. Mungo’s,” Regulus says, which turns the fire gold. 

“For women who weren’t as lucky as I was,” Narcissa finishes.

The fire consumes her stick of incense, flares, and dies. 

“Glad that’s over,” Bellatrix says with a shiver. “Let’s eat.”

**Author's Note:**

> At the moment I'm typing this, I have plans to update on a regular basis. Thank you.


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